


Fishtailing

by AnotherSquirrel



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherSquirrel/pseuds/AnotherSquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fishtailing: when the driver of the car loses control and the end swerves side to side; like their lives that, due to poor past decisions, spun out of control, and now they were just along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be aware that the story’s going to jump back and forth all over the place due to numerous flashbacks that do have a purpose and the bunny just loved to whap me with. If you see any errors please let me know so I can fix them.

_“Lots of folks confuse bad management with destiny.”_

– Frank “Kin” Hubbard

 

 

_Two frames were curled together on the small berth; their plating pinged and popped as they cooled from their earlier activities. A soft blue glow slowly dimed and flickered off as one fell into recharge, curling closer to the other._

_The other was content to stay awake, his servo slowly stroking his berthmate’s back. His red optics took in the sleek form that he was curled around; somewhat surprised that he was actually in that berth with the other mech. He vented deeply, systems trying to expel as much heat as they could. He was more relaxed than he had been in the last ten vorns, and despite the cramped space on the berth, he was very comfortable. So he continued to gaze at his berthmate, because nothing could ruin that moment._

_He awoke a few joors later to the annoying sound of his comm beeping incessantly at his processor, and making a soft grunt of irritation, the red opticed mech answered it. It wasn’t good news, it never was, and he had to leave then, or it would be too late._

_So the red optic mech moved slowly from the berth, disentangling himself from the still recharging mech, stopping only to trail his finger down the side of the other’s face, assuring himself that he’d be back. Then he was out of the door and the door was closing silently in his wake. And he was gone._

_In the dark room, a blue visor flickered on, staring at the closed door across the room._

_He should have known._

 

===

 

“I think we’ve set a new record,” Red Alert commented wryly, and Wheeljack’s vocal indicators flashed merrily.

 

“Maybe for you, but I know Ratchet was way worse back at the Academy,” the inventor sniggered as Ratchet glared at him.

 

“Really, Ratchet? You of all mechs?” Ironhide mocked, his face split in a wide grin as the medic turned to glare across the table at the weapons specialist.

 

“My apartment was far away from the Academy at the time,” Ratchet replied primly, Wheeljack made a noise of disagreement.

 

“More like you were always over-recharging and had to hurry up or be late.”

 

“Almost like he was preparing for now, ‘cause Primus knows he hardly ever recharges these days,” Blaster added, and Ratchet growled at him, but Optimus decided to stop the teasing before the officers got Ratchet too riled up. They were gathered in the conference room for a reason.

 

“All joking aside, things have to change; this is in no way conducive to our relationship with the humans. That most mechs have a problem with a standardized law is beginning to reflect badly on us.”

 

“Prime, even I find it funny that in the past two weeks alone we have gotten 58 speeding tickets,” Red Alert commented wryly.

 

“Which is why we are here trying to find a solution that will cease our constant breaking of a human law,” Prime said pointedly, and Prowl, who had been silent since arriving, spoke up.

 

“What would help you obey the speed limit laws, Prime? I think that, because you are one of the worst offenders, what would deter you, would most likely deter the rest.”

 

Prime bit back a groan as his officers began to snicker at his expense.

 

“I’m sure the Twins have me beat in that regard,” Prime retorted, trying to turn the teasing away from himself, but was confused when Prowl shook his head and Ratchet began laughing.

 

“The Twins have yet to acquire a single ticket. You have a total of nine, with Tracks, Brawn, and Inferno tied at second with seven,  and Ratchet is tied with Jazz at 6,” Prowl summed up, and everyone stared at Jazz in surprise.

 

“What? That’s just the count for the last two weeks; I’ve been a bit busy. I’ll catch up next week,” Jazz quipped, causing mechs to shake their heads at him, and Prowl to frown.

 

“Only you would make it a competition to see who can break a human law for entertainment,” Prowl commented, and Jazz grinned widely, and was about to reply when Ironhide cut him off.

 

“What I wanna know is how the twins don’t have any tickets, I know I’ve seen them go over the human limit before,” the red mech commented causing Red Alert’s lipplates to twist in wry smile.

 

“They limit their speeding to near the Ark, and they’re better at not getting caught by the police. They also make up for their good behavior with their pranking,” was the explanation, and Ironhide nodded, accepting the answer.

 

 “Which brings up the point of how we are going to deal with this problem,” Prime cut in, trying to steer the conversation back to its original purpose.

 

“Didn’t Praxus have a problem with speeding before the war?” Wheeljack asked, and Prowl frowned and shook his head.

 

“While Praxus had problems with racing gangs, the problems mainly stemmed from smuggling dark energon and endangering civilians,” Prowl explained, and Jazz’s grin widened.

 

“Why not do that?” Jazz suggested, and Ratchet glared at the saboteur.

 

“If you’re suggesting we manufacture-”

 

Jazz sat up straight and frantically shook his head.

 

“Frag no! That stuff screwed over a good friend of mine!” the saboteur protested. “I mean, why don’t we do what Praxus did to help mechs let off steam. They had some _nice_ tracks there.”

 

Optimus stared at his third in command incredulously.

 

“So your solution to end our mechs-” Wheeljack coughed a ‘your’ “-speeding, is to have a place for them to speed?”

 

Jazz shrugged.

 

“Worked for Praxus didn’t it?”

 

At Prime’s less than enthused look, Jazz continued. “Look at it this way, OP, we always gotta be careful around humans, which includes us bein’ on their roads. There’s no real place for us to drive at what’s a normal speed for us, a track would help with that.”

 

“It will also help you show off more once the actual racing has become established,” Prowl added dryly, and Jazz smiled blandly.

 

“Two birds with one stone and all that,” the saboteur retorted with a wave of his hand, and Red Alert glanced at him suspiciously.

 

“What about birds?” Red Alert demanded, and Prowl shook his head.

 

“It’s a human saying,” Prowl explained, and, after glaring at everyone in the room to stop their eventual teasing about him actually knowing the euphemism, continued to add his thoughts. “A racetrack would probably help, however, we have the problem of either acquiring an abandoned one from the humans, which would need to be rebuilt, or building one of our own.”

 

 “What else would be needed for a racetrack?” Prime asked the tactician, curious to see what Prowl’s opinion on the idea would be.

 

“Depending on which option we chose, both would require we purchase the property, we would also need resources to fit the track to our standards, and it would need to be within defendable distance in case the Decepticons attack Autobots who are at the track, and most importantly, it would need to be in a location that is not easily accessible to humans, for their own safety,” Prowl summed, and Optimus nodded understanding, and somewhat relieved, that Prowl was against Jazz’s idea.

 

“Oh, come on, Prowl! Just think about how much fun it’ll be!” Jazz protested, and Ironhide snorted.

 

“Prowl don’t know what ‘fun’ is.”

 

Prowl frowned at the both of them.

 

“Your beliefs on my being able to have ‘fun’ aside, the question becomes how we’ll be able to acquire money to purchase property for the racetrack.”

 

Nearly everyone stalled at the statement.

 

“Ya mean, ya-?” Jazz began and Prowl nodded, his face expressionless.

 

“It is the most viable suggestion, and as pointed out before it did work for Praxus, and if gone about the correct way, the chances of the racetrack solving most of the problem is over 80 percent,” Prowl explained, the corner of his lipplates twitching up in a subtle smirk. “The only problem, is acquiring money to buy the land needed for this project.”

 

“Since you’re so agreeable to this, I’ll take care of gettin’ the money, Prowl,” Jazz offered with a wicked grin.

 

“I am from Praxus, Jazz, and it would be nice to go a normal speed every once in a while,” Prowl admitted, causing a few mechs to grumble in agreement. “Though I shudder to think what you’ll do to get ahold of enough money for this.”

 

Jazz’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, putting his servos behind his chair.

 

“Don’t ask any questions Prowl, and I won’t tell ya any lies. ‘Sides, this way I get a say on what we get.”

 

“Ulterior motives, of course,” Prowl remarked, his voice dry, and Jazz chuckled.

 

“Always.”

 

“Very well, is anyone against this plan?” Prowl addressed the rest of the officers, and they all shook their heads. “Then once Jazz has acquired the money, we shall proceed with purchasing an ideal spot.”

 

“I request that I be allowed to survey any possible spots to assess how defendable it is before any purchase is made,” Red Alert requested, and a few snickers sounded throughout the room.

 

“You sure it’s not to get first dibs on a date there?” Wheeljack prodded, and Red Alert lifted his head defiantly.

 

“That’s just an added benefit,” the security director answered primly, causing more laughter, and the meeting then divulged into the officers saying what they would like to be able to do with a racetrack specifically made to their standards.

 

Jazz leaned back glancing off to the side at Prowl, who was watching the other officers with what looked like fond amusement.

 

“Looks like most mechs are gonna have other motives for this racetrack, huh, Prowler?” Jazz asked, and Prowl arched an optic ridge at the saboteur as his lipplates curled into a faint smile.

 

“So it would seem.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny. But what we put into it is ours.”_

– Dag Hammarskjöld

 

_Jazz looked around the racetrack feeling an odd, giddy excitement that he hadn’t felt since he was a youngling participating in his first race. There were tons of racetracks all over Cybertron, but the city of Praxus had the most and the best of all of them, but the one that stood helm and shoulders above them all was the famous Rubidium Crystal Track, and Jazz was standing in the stands of that very track._

_This particular track contained 10 levels of racetracks and stands for each one of them. The top four floors were for private racing that required invitations, but Jazz was free to wander around the lower six tracks and their stands, observing the hustle and bustle around him._

_Anyone could sign up for the public races, but they were preset decacycles in advance, so it would be awhile before Jazz could participate in any of the races, so he was content to simply look around for now. He knew it would be worth the wait, so Jazz signed up for the earliest race he could – three decacycles to the orn – and began to mech-watch. He watched mechs’ interactions, gathering the social-norms of track, and what was expected, and that was when his visored optics caught sight of a dark colored Praxian framed mech the same time the mech glanced his way._

_The mech arched an optic ridge at him, and Jazz grinned in reply, deciding to take it as an invitation._

_It didn’t take him long to reach the mech, and once nearby Jazz could see that the mech wasn’t just dark colored, his plating was mostly glossy black, offset with a few white highlights, and rounded off nicely with dark red optics that completed the look._

_Optic color was generally a lifestyle choice, and generally not all that telling about a mech, but with this mech, Jazz could see that it was meant to accent his dark colors, which it did well._

_Sliding up to the mech, Jazz mustered his most charming smile._

_“Hey, come here often?”_

_Two pairs of optics swung around to stare at him, one pair red, belonging to the mech Jazz had locked optics with, and the other pair a dark gold, belonging to another mech standing next to the first._

_“Often enough,” the red optics mech answered, looking somewhat amused._

_“So, ya know any other great places to race then?” Jazz wheedled, tilting his helm forward a bit, still keeping eye contact with the mech._

_“If you’re lookin’ for a tour guide, there are places to find one,” the yellow opticed mech cut in with a growl, and Jazz glanced over, hiding a frown._

_“But then I wouldn’t find such fine company!” Jazz protested, his friendly grin put to its maximum output to make both the mechs feel at ease with him. It wouldn’t do to make enemies as soon as he arrived, and the red optic mech was nice looking._

_“You’re new here, right? So how would you know if we’re ‘fine company?’” the red optic one asked, turning to face Jazz completely, and Jazz could see the mech’s optics wandering up and down his frame. Jazz leaned against the wall behind the red optic mech, so that the light from the track highlighted parts of his frame. “We’re just random mechs that you decided to proposition.”_

_“’Cade, he’s not propositioning us, he’s propositioning you,” the yellow optic mech snorted, and Jazz latched onto that._

_“So, you’re Cade then, huh? I’m Jazz, nice to meet ya,” Jazz purred holding out a servo, that the red optic mech shook._

_“Barricade, actually,” Barricade answered, and the other mech groaned in exasperation. “He’s Backbite.”_

_A group of mechs wandered close to their little group, looking like they had the intention to stick around, when Backbite grinned menacingly, with far too many denta, and the group scurried off. Jazz noticed it warily, but chose to push it back to think about it later, deciding instead, to focus on the good-looking mech in front of him._

_“Well then, Barricade, what’s a mech gotta do to get a racin’ partner ‘round here?”_

_Jazz saw one of Barricade’s doorwings give a minute twitch, and Jazz had enough time to wonder if he had said something wrong, when Barricade answered, all confidence in his voice, but not a spec in his body language._

_“Depends on what kind of race you’re going for.”_

_Jazz was about to make a cheeky reply, but was cut off by Backbite._

_“Crasher’s here.”_

_Barricade’s attention was immediately focused on where Backbite was looking, through the space between the track and the stands of the racetrack above them, on the seventh level track._

_“You’d think he’d be on time for once,” Barricade muttered, obviously irritated, and Backbite snorted._

_“Nah, he has to make it difficult for us,” Backbite retorted, and began to head toward the lift. “The lift’ll let us up now, c’mon Cade.”_

_Barricade looked at Jazz apologetically with a half-smile._

_“I have to leave now, but perhaps I’ll see you around again, Jazz,” Barricade told the visored mech, and Jazz nodded, a bit confused._

_“Yeah, sure, look forward to it.”_

_With that, Barricade walked away, following Backbite’s lead. Jazz could see their lipplates moving, obviously talking to each other about something, but what caught his attention was Barricade’s still minutely twitching doorwings._

_Jazz contemplated Barricade’s odd body language during the last part of their conversation as the two mechs walked out of sight. Body language was different for each city state, but some things carried over, and Barricade’s body language distinctly reminded Jazz of mechs in Iacon telling others to back off. After a breem or two, Jazz pushed the thought aside, and started to actually watch the race that was happening on his level, he was in Praxus now, it probably meant nothing._

 

===

 

“This is it?”

 

“Were you expecting something different?”

 

“Red Alert had seemed very impressed and excited, so I had assumed that there would be more to the land than… this.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Grapple, at least this way, you get to start from scratch, instead of building over or restoring another track,” Jazz said, nudging the less than enthusiastic mech.

 

“Red Alert’s excitement mainly stemmed from both the closeness of the area to the Ark,” Prowl explained, and Grapple vented softly, considering. “At any rate, we have a location, and you agreed to design a racetrack for us. So the question now becomes, what materials do you foresee needing?”

 

“If this were to be a traditional track, the Tungsten-Cybertronium mix would be non-optional, but with tires, there would be no friction, and therefore no racing. If everyone would switch back to their hovers, that wouldn’t happen, however,” Grapple began, looking closer at the land.

 

“Hovers will not operate well on human roads, though that would also help the speeding problems as well,” Prowl mused, and Jazz snorted in good humor.

 

“You just try taking my speed from me, Prowler, you’ll regret it.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Prowl lamented, and Jazz grinned, which widened when a thought occurred to him.

 

“What about we make it like the human roads?”

 

Both Grapple and Prowl looked at Jazz in surprise.

 

“Think about it, we can’t use hovers, ‘cause they don’t work on human roads and Ratch’ll decorate his medbay with our sparkcasings on display as trophies if we even suggest that we reformat from tires to hovers and back every time we go to the track. And ya gotta admit, that new asphalt is awesome under tires,” Jazz explained, and while Grapple looked thoughtful, Prowl had been shaking his head before Jazz was even finished.

 

“New asphalt might be nice to drive on, but it wouldn’t hold for very long and would soon become worse than those old back roads because of the wear and tear that asphalt simply cannot handle,” Prowl explained, and Jazz frowned.

 

“Hadn’t thought of that…”

 

“It might not be plausible to use asphalt, but Wheeljack and Perceptor may be able to create another form of Tungsten-Cybertronium mix which includes other elements, and cause similar properties to asphalt,” Grapple suggested, and Jazz saw Prowl’s doorwings minutely twitch, something that Jazz had learned long ago meant a warning.

 

“Very well, I’ll talk to Wheeljack and Perceptor about synthesizing something that will work,” Prowl allowed, and Grapple nodded. “However, if Wheeljack blows something up during this experiment, _you_ get to deal with the paperwork.”

 

“Very well,” Grapple agreed, amiable to that, and Jazz burst out laughing.

 

“Mech, ya have no idea what ya just agreed to.”

 

===

 

“So, how’s the construction planning going?”

 

Prowl looked up to see Sideswipe leaning on the doorway to his office.

 

“Well enough,” Prowl answered, gesturing for Sideswipe to come inside and take a seat. “Why do you ask?”

 

Sideswipe sat down in the seat across from Prowl’s desk, leaning back and putting his arms behind his head.

 

“Well I heard that Wheeljack’s now working on something for the track, and I figure that, it is my right as a good little Autobot to be a little worried about the sanctity of our future racetrack when you have Mr. Explosion himself working on it,” Sideswipe grinned, and Prowl huffed through his vents, signing off on the report in his hands. It wasn’t hard to multitask when Sideswipe decided to come and chat like this.

 

“First, you are not little, and judging from the pranks I know you’ve pulled over the vorns, you are not ‘good’ either,” Prowl began with a faint smile. “Second, I’m surprised you haven’t heard Jazz gloating about my deal with Grapple about allowing Wheeljack to work on creating a new material for the roads of the racetrack.”

 

“Is that what he was grinnin’ about? Wasn’t really paying attention,” Sideswipe shrugged, and made a movement as if to put his pedes up on the desk, but was stopped by a glare from Prowl. Sideswipe waved his hands apologetically. “Sorry, old habits.”

 

“What about old habits?”

 

Sideswipe and Prowl both looked at the doorway to see Jazz standing there, and once he had both of their attention, the visored mech strolled into the room and sat down in the seat next to Sideswipe’s.

 

“Nothing important,” Sideswipe answered, getting up and heading for the door. “Talk to you later, Prowl.” Sideswipe paused inside the doorway and looked back at Prowl and Jazz with a wry grin. “Just make sure that the track won’t explode under our wheels.”

 

Prowl rolled his optics and Jazz broke out into snickers while Sideswipe left, the office door closing behind him automatically. Once Jazz’s snickers died down, Prowl looked at him pointedly.

 

“I seem to be very popular today, is there a particular reason why?”

 

“What? I need a reason to visit you in your office?” Jazz teased, and Prowl arched an optic ridge at him. “Well, okay, I do, Ratchet wanted me to give you the latest medbay reports and tell you that ‘if Wheeljack causes the road to blow up underneath anyone’s tires, there won’t be enough pieces left of you to make a blender.’”

 

Prowl held out his hand and Jazz pulled out a stack of datapads out of his subspace and handed them over to Prowl.

 

“I am confident that Perceptor and Skyfire will be able to rein in Wheeljack’s destructive tendencies,” Prowl replied, placing the datapads in a neat pile on his desk.

 

“Especially with Grapple’s vents exhaling on his back, and man am I glad about that, wouldn’t want the track to turn out to be some sort of obstacle course of death,” Jazz commented and Prowl nodded.

 

“The paperwork would never end, and I would never get a chance to use the racetrack myself.”

 

Jazz gave Prowl a curious look.

 

“Ya know, I never really took ya for the racing type, Prowl. I mean, ya hardly ever accept any of my invitations to go out for a drive,” Jazz said pointedly, and Prowl gave him a bemused look.

 

“Perhaps that’s because almost every time you ask me, it’s to get me to ‘relax’ when I’m busy handing out punishments. And I’ve been on those back roads mechs have been using, and I don’t appreciate the glass grinding into my tires,” Prowl explained patiently, and Jazz sheepishly nodded, accepting it. “Besides, Jazz, I’m from Praxus, it was considered odd if one didn’t periodically participate in any of the various races that were taking place.”

 

“Heh, you’re right about that, I remember seeing some mechs in Praxus race rigidly at the same time same place every decaorn or so when I was there,” Jazz remarked, with a small smirk. “Alright, I’ll leave ya alone now.”

 

“Can you take these to Optimus, please?” Prowl asked, picking up another stack of datapads and handing it to Jazz.

 

“Sure thing, mech. What are they for?”

 

“They are the last of the paperwork from the last time Wheeljack had an explosion,” Prowl explained, and Jazz shook his head, snickering.

 

“And that happened, what, three months ago? Grapple really has no idea what he agreed to.” Jazz laughed standing up, and Prowl smirked in reply.

 

“The situation was made worse because there were human ambassadors visiting Ratchet at the time, and seeing a mech rushed to medbay causes them to doubt their safety within the Ark,” Prowl said, and Jazz shook his head in good humor, and subspaced the stack of datapads.

 

Jazz began to walk to the door, when a thought occurred to him, so he turned to face Prowl.

 

“Ya know, there was one track I really liked that was near an enforcer station, any chance ya ever raced there?” Jazz asked, honestly curious, and Prowl considered the question for a moment before answering it.

 

“I might have, though if you had seen me, I doubt you would have recognized me.”

 

Jazz accepted the answer with a nod, and left the office, the door behind him sliding shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to fix a grammatical error.


	3. Chapter 3

_“I can’t believe this happened,_

_And all this time I never thought,_

_That all we had would be all for naught.”_

\- “Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet” – Relient K

 

_Jazz stared at the ceiling of his small apartment, trying to ignore the now empty spot next to him that had become cold, like the loneliness creeping into Jazz’s very spark._

_He tried not to think about Barricade, and how he had left in the middle of the night cycle, without so much as a simple “good bye.” Jazz knew Barricade very well, or at least he thought he did, and Barricade would not simply just run off like this had been some sort of one night stand. So Jazz waited, and waited, wanting Barricade to slink back into the apartment, or for the red opticed mech to comm Jazz and say why he had left._

_Joors passed, without so much as a peep from anyone or anything, so out of time and resigned, Jazz got up to face the day cycle._

_He began his orn like he had all the other orns since he had come to Praxus. With loud music blaring through the speakers of his specially created sound system, a cube of midgrade and a quick rinse in the washracks, ready to face the orn. Only this time, it was different, because Jazz wished that Barricade was there._

_Jazz hadn’t known Barricade for more than a vorn, and while he acknowledged that it wasn’t long enough to know everything about a mech, much less something to base a relationship on, Jazz knew Barricade had been serious about it. And Jazz was serious about it too._

_So it had hurt more than a little to see Barricade leave before the night cycle was up, but Jazz assured himself that Cade had a damn good reason to do it. And if he didn’t, then Barricade had lied, and wasn’t as serious as Jazz was, and that would be the end of it. There was no point in carrying a relationship if both sides weren’t committed to it._

_Jazz stared out of his window, thinking over what had happened the night cycle before, and tried to reassure himself that he would see Barricade again, and Barricade would then explain why he had left._

_Jazz pushed those thoughts away, and left his apartment, he could dwell on his doubts later, for now he would go about his orn like he usually did._

_At least he was going to, when flashing lights caught his attention, and Jazz turned his head to see where the lights were coming from, and his gaze landed on a crowd of mechs and femmes standing around the entrance of the Velocity Loop track. That was especially odd, because most of the mechs who were regulars at that particular track weren’t around during the day cycle, and as such the small track was usually deserted by this time. And even at its busiest, the track barely filled one of its three levels, as it was one of the smaller, less known tracks._

_It also happened to be one of Jazz’s favorites, and one of the ones that Barricade frequented most often as well._

_Curiosity piqued, Jazz changed directions and headed over to see what the commotion was and was surprised to see almost a dozen Praxian enforcers around the track’s entrance. It wasn’t all too suspicious to see an enforcer around a racetrack, to make sure that everything was alright, and that there was no illegal activity going on, and while Jazz was sure that there was illegal dealings that had gone down in this very track, it was nothing that should have called for more than one or two enforcers to take care of._

_Jazz knew the owner and maintainer of the track, Roadblock, wouldn’t have allowed anything too shady to go down on the track, Jazz had even seen Roadblock report a few younglings for carrying dark energon on his track. So whatever Roadblock had reported, it was obviously big._

_Spotting someone he recognized in the gawking crowd, Jazz weaved through the crowd, and tapped Circuit on the shoulder. The smaller mech jumped, letting out a loud squawk, causing others in the crowd to stare for a moment, before deciding that watching the enforcer proceedings would be more interesting._

_Once everyone else had looked away, Jazz grinned down at the green mech and was about to speak, when Circuit cut him off._

_“Jazz? What are you doing here?” Circuit demanded, sounding more than just faintly worried, and Jazz frowned, Circuit was way too tense._

_“Hey, Circuit, good ta see ya,” Jazz replied easily ignoring how rude Circuit had been, and Circuit made a quick acknowledging movement of his hand, Jazz snorted in reply, and looked back at the enforcers at the entrance of the track._

_“Yeah, yeah, good to see you too,” Circuit answered, his voice curt. “Now what the frag are you doing here? I would’ve thought that after what had happened with Barricade you wouldn’t be staying around.”_

_Jazz’s frame became deathly still, and he slowly moved his helm so he could he could look down at Circuit._

_“What about Barricade?” Jazz’s voice was quiet, and Circuit looked at him uncomprehendingly._

_“You mean you don’t know? I saw Barricade leave the track with you; didn’t you guys go to your place? So you had to’ve been there for it!” Circuit protested, and Jazz grabbed Circuits shoulder, and pulled so that they were both looking at each other._

_“Been there for what?” Jazz demanded, and then, out of the corner of his visor, Jazz saw Roadblock being led away to an enforcer transport in stasis cuffs, Jazz’s spark felt cold, as he turned his attention back to Circuit. “What happened?”_

_“There was a raid on the track late last night cycle, they found dark energon, and have evidence that Crasher, Roadblock, and the others were implicated too,” Circuit answered, looking startled at Jazz’s sudden forcefulness._

_“What about Barricade?”_

_“The whole gang was picked up, him and Backbite too,” Circuit answered looking at Jazz like the visored mech was a few processor chips short. “Weren’t you with ‘Cade?”_

_“He left,” Jazz answered simply, feeling like his processor was stalling, and Circuit’s optics lit up, understandingly._

_“Oh yeah, I remember an alert went up right after the raid and they began to haul in mechs, Cade must’ve got it and tried to get out,” Circuit mused, and Jazz struggled to get his processor around what was happening, and demand more information from Circuit when an enforcer approached the crowd with a datapad in his servos._

_Circuit froze when the mech looked up and focused on them, as if comparing the two of them to his datapad._

_“Circuit and Jazz, correct?” the enforcer asked, and Jazz nodded, frowning, and Circuit turned and ran, only to be stopped by another enforcer and cuffed._

_“Circuit you are under arrest for assisting in the sale and distribution of dark energon and weapons,” the first enforcer announced, and Jazz choked, staring at Circuit in disbelief._

_Circuit was led away to the enforcer transport in shocked silence, and the enforcer turned his attention back to Jazz, and Jazz stared back keeping his faceplate as blank as he could._

_“You are Jazz, right?” the enforcer asked, and Jazz nodded._

_“Yeah, I am,” Jazz answered quietly, not liking where this was going, and the enforcer answered with a wry smile._

_“Don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you, according to the roster of this track, it shows that you’re a regular here?”_

_“Yeah, for about a vorn now,” Jazz answered, his voice careful, and the enforcer nodded, checking something off on his datapad._

_“Are you friends with a lot of the others that come here?” the enforcer continued, and Jazz frowned._

_“Only know a few of them,” Jazz answered, his voice sounding hollow as he amended. “Or, at least I thought I did.”_

_The enforcer gave him a sympathetic look._

_“I need to ask you a few questions then, either here, or down at the station.”_

_Jazz nodded, having figured that, sighing as he rubbed the back of his helm._

_“Mind if I come by the station later this cycle? I have to get to work, and I don’t really wanna be around when you’re checkin’ all of ‘em in,” Jazz requested, wanting time to process it all, that Barricade, of all mechs, was involved in something like this._

_“Of course, come down to the Vela Quadrant’s Station, and ask for Downshift,” the mech allowed, and Jazz gave a weak smile._

_“You’d be Downshift then?” Jazz asked, and Downshift nodded, turning to head over to the transport._

_“Yes, please be aware that if you don’t show up, enforcers will be looking for you,” Downshift answered and walked away._

_Jazz cycled more air through his vents as he turned away and began to walk down the street, the orn had started bad and only gotten worse, and he should have been angry at Barricade for what was going on._

_But Jazz felt numb, with a single question echoing through his processor: What had Barricade gotten into?_

===

Bluestreak stared in amazement as car after car drove up to the Ark, each carrying various officials from all over the United States wanting to discuss the racetrack that was being built for Autobot only use. And of course, following the officials were newscasters wanting the latest scoop on the Autobots.

“Primus, this is worse than when celebrities decided to race on the free tracks at the Rubidium track,” Sideswipe commented from right behind the grey gunner, and Bluestreak nodded, because it was true.

“You should have seen the humans crawling around the actual track, you’d think they’d know what “Keep Out” meant,” Sunstreaker scoffed, and Bluestreak gave the yellow frontliner a small grin.

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much anymore Sunstreaker, I think most of them got the point to stay away with you there staring them down, though now they’re just coming here to ask about the track and why they’re not allowed to come, you’d think that they’d have learned that we can go way faster than them, they even showed footage of Beachcomber going faster than a jet that one time,” Bluestreak rambled, and Sunstreaker smirked in reply as Sideswipe chuckled.

“I remember that, though why Beachcomber would let himself be filmed with his paintjob looking that bad is beyond me,” Sunstreaker commented, and Sideswipe groaned good-naturedly and Bluestreak laughed.

“Some of us don’t care about that sort of thing, Sunstreaker. Prowl told me-” Bluestreak began, but was cut off by Sunstreaker.

“Just because your brother taught you how to look presentable doesn’t mean that the slagger actually knows how to look good,” Sunstreaker said pointedly, and Sideswipe sniggered in the background.

“I disagree with ya there, Sunny,” a cheery voice broke in, and all three turned to see Jazz walking towards them. “Prowler always looks his best,” Jazz continued in a purr.

“I really don’t wanna hear that about my brother, Jazz,” Bluestreak answered, and Sideswipe nodded.

“Same here,” Sideswipe agreed, and Sunstreaker snorted.

“I remember you said-” Sunstreaker began, and his red twin cut him off with a growl.

“That was vorns ago, and I was slagged out of my mind from that cheap high grade you bought,” Sideswipe argued, stressing his next point. “So it doesn’t count.”

Bluestreak looked at his red friend, his faceplates completely innocent.

“But you told me that the best way to find out what’s really going on in a mech’s processors is to load ‘em up with high grade and then play truth or dare.”

Sunstreaker smirked and Jazz snickered, as Sideswipe groaned.

“The humans have a saying for this: Ya reap what ya sow,” Jazz commented once his snickering died down a little, and Sideswipe glared at the saboteur.

“You know, I’m just going to leave before my dignity suffers anymore,” Sideswipe replied, and began to head down the hallway leading further into the Ark, his yellow twin following after him.

“Since when did you have any dignity, Sides?” Jazz called after the red mech, who groaned in response, and looked about to turn around to say something, when Sunstreaker grabbed his twin’s arm and pulled him around the corner.

Once the twins were out of sight, Bluestreak looked over at Jazz, and the black and white mech glanced back, confused.

“Sometime you’re gonna have to tell me why Sides doesn’t like you, because whenever you’re around he always finds some reason to go somewhere else, it’s annoying, and you can’t say you didn’t do anything, there has to be some reason why,” Bluestreak told Jazz, and Jazz gave the gunner a small smile and a shrug.

“I dunno why either of them don’t like me, Blue,” Jazz answered, turning to watch the procession of human dignitaries talking to Prime. “They’ve always been like that with me.”

Bluestreak looked at Jazz puzzled.

“Sideswipe’s the one who doesn’t like you, Sunstreaker just follows him because, oh what did they say, something about a ‘united front’ or something like that. Sunstreaker doesn’t mind you all that much, or at least, that’s what I think,” Bluestreak answered, turning his attention to the humans that were talking to Prime.

“Know Sunny and Sides that well, huh?” Jazz teased, and Bluestreak gave the older mech a disgusted look.

“Not like that! They were just around Prowl a lot and sparking sat me while Prowl had to work,” Bluestreak protested, and Jazz’s visor brightened in surprise.

“Really? How the frag did Prowl meet them in Praxus?”

Bluestreak’s faceplates became thoughtful as he thought over the twins visiting Prowl and him at their apartment in Praxus and all of the stories they had all told him, but couldn’t really place when it had begun or any story that had explained it.

After a breem or so, Jazz gave Bluestreak a skeptical look.

“Really? Ya don’t know how Prowl met two of the most troublesome mechs on the Ark?”

“They were just there, I never asked why!” Bluestreak answered, his voice flustered, and Jazz laughed in amusement.

“Guess I’ll have to ask Prowl then,” Jazz grinned, and Bluestreak shook his head, and began to walk off.

“Tell me what he says, but I gotta go now Jazz, I have monitor duty, bye!”

“Bye, Blue,” Jazz called back, and now alone near the entrance of the Ark, Jazz decided it was time to go and make sure that Prowl wasn’t working too hard, and maybe getting the story of how Prowl had met the twins.

Jazz hummed a tune as he reached Prowl’s office, and not bothering to knock on the door, entered to hear Ratchet’s frustrated ranting.

“I don’t care that Grapple agreed to deal with the paperwork, as far as I’m concerned it’s your fault that Wheeljack was even working on that in the first place!”

To Jazz’s amusement, Prowl was completely calm in the face of Ratchet’s righteous rage, the only actual hint of Prowl’s emotions were the tactician’s doorwings positioned a little higher and the tiny smirk curling on the corner of his lipplates.

“It’s out of my hands Ratchet, Grapple agreed to take care of all paperwork dealing with any of Wheeljack’s messes, which includes dealing with your reports on anything you deem as ‘an unnecessary repairs’,” Prowl replied, and Ratchet growled in response, and Prowl continued. “Look at it this way, Ratchet, at least with Wheeljack’s latest disaster, the only thing that happened is that he and Perceptor are covered in,” at this point, Prowl looked down at the datapad and quoted, “‘gooey black stuff.’ Considering that it hasn’t caused any damage to their systems so far, this is rather mild.”

Prowl picked up the datapad and held it out to Ratchet, which Ratchet grudgingly took.

“I’m going to get you back for this, Prowl,” Ratchet warned, and Prowl’s doorwings fluttered a bit.

“I don’t doubt that, but for now that report has to go by Grapple, not me,” Prowl called out as Ratchet stomped out of the room, nodding to Jazz.

With Ratchet gone, Prowl turned his attention to the saboteur, and raised an optic ridge at him. Jazz smiled and took a seat across from Prowl.

“Ya know, I woulda thought that Jack would’ve had an explosion earlier than this,” Jazz commented, leaning back in the chair, and Prowl gave a small smile.

“I thought the same, and I must admit that I am disappointed that it wasn’t on a grander scale,” Prowl replied softy, and Jazz laughed.

“Ya really wanted someone else to have to deal with the bucket loads of paperwork for a change, huh?” Jazz teased, and Prowl gave him a semi-exasperated look. “At least ya got an explosion, it’s been months, and everyone was thinkin’ that it wasn’t gonna happen, especially since Skyfire mentioned something about having the formula done for what was gonna be needed.”

“They did,” Prowl allowed wryly, leaning back in his own chair. “But that was until Sideswipe wandered into the lab and asked about trying to make the material more like asphalt, in particular, trying to make it black.”

Jazz snorted, putting the pieces together.

“So Jack thought it’d be fun to try, Perceptor walked in at the wrong time, and boom?”

“Exactly, and no one can actually blame Sideswipe for anything more than making a suggestion, and it, logically, isn’t his fault that Wheeljack, a highly educated engineer and inventor, decided to listen to one of our resident prankster’s suggestions,” Prowl said, rubbing his chevron, and Jazz absently tracked the movement with his hidden optics.

“Well, at least there was an explosion before the project ended so you won’t have to deal with the paperwork of another explosion for another few months,” Jazz pointed out, and Prowl chuckled softly,

“That’s what Sideswipe told me.”

“He came by to tell you?” Jazz asked puzzled, and Prowl shook his helm.

“No, he commed me, and has been hiding from Ratchet ever since,” Prowl answered, and Jazz nodded, there were few things scarier than Ratchet wanting revenge on somebot. And since the subject had been brought up, Jazz figured that now would be the perfect time to bring up the original excuse he had to come bother Prowl.

“Ya know, I never really noticed before, but ya and Sides seem to know each other pretty well,” Jazz commented, and Prowl’s frame locked up, as he looked into Jazz’s visor.

“I suppose we do,” Prowl answered carefully.

“Bluestreak even mentioned that ya knew each other back in Praxus and that ya let the twins sparkling sit him,” Jazz continued easily, pretending to ignore the tenseness in Prowl’s frame.

“Just Sunstreaker,” Prowl corrected, and Jazz’s visor flared briefly, he hadn’t doubted what Bluestreak had said about knowing the twins in Praxus, but Jazz had expected that Bluestreak had misremembered something about the sparkling sitting comment.

“Really? I would’ve thought that ya wouldn’t have even let ‘em near Blue,” Jazz pressed, and Prowl shifted uncomfortably.

“Sunstreaker, despite common belief is highly dependable, and when he’s not being influenced by his brother, isn’t as prone to participate in pranking or other such things,” Prowl explained, his voice still cautious. “At the time I was unable to watch Bluestreak myself, and the twins needed some help, so it became a… trade off.”

“What’d they need help with?” Jazz asked frowning, not once did he ever recall either of the twins asking for help with any of their problems, both preferring to deal with things on their own.

“I’d rather not talk about it, Jazz.”

“Aw, c’mon, Prowler!” Jazz protested, and Prowl shook his helm, frowning.

“It was something that they trusted me to help them with, and is not something that I’m allowed to talk about,” Prowl explained patiently, and Jazz tilted his helm, considering.

“Ya promised them then?” Jazz asked after a breem of silence.

“Yes,” Prowl answered simply, and Jazz backed off, Prowl took keeping promises very seriously, and if Prowl had promised not to tell anyone, then Jazz would respect that promise and not ask any more about it.

It became quiet in the office for a while, and Prowl went back to work, while Jazz watched, neither saying anything until a thought occurred to Jazz.

“Hey, ya hear about the race that OP agreed to?”

Prowl froze again, and looked up to stare at Jazz, his faceplates blank.

“No, I haven’t, please, enlighten me,” Prowl deadpanned, and Jazz grinned widely.

“Well, ya see, all the humans are gettin’ all excited ‘cause of the track an’ all, and they wanna be there to watch,” Jazz began, and Prowl nodded, that had been a common subject of conversation between humans and mechs over the past few months. “Well, a few days ago some human dignitary was talkin to OP about some big international race comin’ up, and OP said that he’d get a few mechs to participate in it.”

“He knows that that wouldn’t be fair to the humans participating,” Prowl commented with an exasperated look, and Jazz chuckled.

“That’s why Prime said he was gonna make it a competition on who passes the finish line last,” Jazz replied, and Prowl put his elbows on his desk, and his faceplates in his hands.

“I doubt that that will work as well as he thinks it will,” Prowl said, and Jazz laughed.

“Probably not, ya gonna stop him?”

“No, to borrow the human expression, Prime has made his bed, so he can lie in it,” Prowl answered, and Jazz’s grin widened. “Besides, it’ll draw attention away from our racetrack for the time being, and that in itself will be a bit of a relief.”

“Ya think ya’ll participate?” Jazz asked and Prowl shook his helm.

“Someone needs to stay and keep things running here.”

Jazz pouted.

“Aw, c’mon Prowl, at least think about it,” Jazz cajoled, using the most charming grin he could manage.

Prowl frowned, but after half a beem, he relented.

“Very well, I will consider it.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Got a ride that smoother than a limousine_

_Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights?_

_If you can baby boy then we can go all night”_

-“Shut Up and Drive” by Rhianna

 

 

_Jazz shivered with delight as he made his way over to the start of the track. He could feel the excited current of electricity running through his frame the closer he got, and for the life of him, he could not wipe the sparkling like grin from his faceplates. It was finally happening, he was going to be racing on the famous Rubidium Crystal Track, and he could hardly contain his excitement._

_Jazz reached the booth that guarded the entrance from the stands to the actual track, and showed his registration for the upcoming race to the track worker in the booth._

_The track worker gave an indulgent smile to Jazz’s barely contained excitement, more than likely too used to the newbies and tourists that came to the track, and opened the gate to let Jazz onto the track with a “Good luck, mechling.”_

_Jazz nodded absently, his visored optics taking in the track as he stepped onto it for the first time, too ecstatic about finally being on the actual track to race to really care about the ‘mechling’ comment. He really wasn’t that young, but he was sure that he looked like he was right then, and really who could blame Jazz? This had been one of his mechlinghood dreams, and it was actually being accomplished!_

_Jazz ignored everything else but the specially made Tungsten-Cybertronian smooth road beneath his pedes as he made his way to the starting line. He looked over the various twists and turns of the track, and he finally couldn’t help himself and danced a small happy jig that it was finally happening._

_A mech walked past him muttering, “Tourists,” as he went by, and Jazz was sure he heard another one of the racers laugh at him, but he ignored both of them in favor of getting to his spot._

_The call was made over the fourth floor loudspeaker for the racers to transform and get ready, and all the racers got into position and did so, Jazz vaguely recognizing one of the other’s frame in the process, but pushed it out of his processor, because that wasn’t what was important at the moment._

_What was important was the mech announcing over the loudspeaker to start in “Five…”_

_Jazz shifted slightly on his hovers._

_“Four…”_

_The mechs in the stands quieted._

_“Three…”_

_Jazz’s processor buzzed with adrenaline._

_“Two…”_

_Engines rumbled with anticipation._

_“One…”_

_Jazz felt his spark stop._

_“Start!”_

_There was a deafening roar that broke out over the stands and the track as all of the racers surged forward, Jazz among them, pealing towards the front putting all his nervous energy to good use._

_Jazz focused on the road under him and the twists and turns, his vents and coolant working hard to keep his frame from overheating as he kept pace with the mech in the fifth of eight positions._

_It soon became apparent after the second turn that the two mechs that were trailing behind weren’t trying to catch up at all, which, Jazz thought with the spare bits of processor that wasn’t concentrating on winning the race, that that was such a waste of time, why bother with the racing if they weren’t going to at least participate fully._

_By the fifth turn Jazz was in control of fifth place and working on taking fourth, he was looking for an opening, when he saw a slight waver in the mech’s hovering, and now that he was looking for it, Jazz saw it happen again and again. By the time the sixth twist came around Jazz had recognized the pattern, and right before the seventh turn the waver happened again. It was a slight wobble, but it was enough that Jazz was able to take advantage of it, dipping his front bumper under right as the wobble came up. The mech veered off course a bit and then Jazz was in front of him, sure it was a dirty trick, but there were no rules against it._

_The mech revved angrily and Jazz flashed his brake lights cheekily, and then focused again on moving up to the next spot._

_By the ninth turn Jazz had taken third, and after the 11 th turn he was in second and going for first. _

_Jazz pushed himself harder, trying to close the gap that was between him and first, and by the time the twelfth curve had come around they were even. The mech beside him revved his engine harder and Jazz was momentarily startled when the noise, compared to the rest of the mechs that he had passed, was almost silent. It cost Jazz, the mech using his surprise to pull ahead as the 13 th twist began._

_Jazz rumbled irritated, and redlined his systems, pushing himself harder than he ever had as he came out of the curve, shooting forward past the other mech._

_Jazz mentally smirked as he saw the finish line up ahead, he had won! He had won his first race at the Rubidium Crystal Track! He couldn’t wait to rub it in his old friends from Polyhex’s faceplates._

_Just as Jazz was cheering himself on, the other mech caught up with a much louder rumble of his engine, and pulled even to Jazz, and began ever to so slowly pull ahead._

_Jazz would have none of that, and pushed himself even harder. There was no way in the pit that he was going to lose his first race on this track._

_Jazz was so focused on being faster than the other mech, he failed to notice what exactly the mech was doing until all of a sudden Jazz lost control of his rear hovers and fishtailed allowing the other mech to take the lead. The mech had done the same thing that Jazz had done in the middle of the race._

_Not to be deterred, Jazz tried to catch up, but it was too late, and pulled past the finish line not too far behind in second place. Jazz rapidly transformed and fell to lean against the wall that separated the stands from the track further down from the finish line, his vents and coolant working overtime to cool his overheating frame._

_“Ya cheated mech,” Jazz panted to the mech that won first place as he transformed into root form._

_Red optics and a small smirk on a semi-familiar faceplate looked down on Jazz._

_“There are no rules against that on this track, and I happen to know for a fact that you pulled that same trick on Backbite earlier this very race Jazz,” the mech answered smoothly as the third place mech finished, and Jazz grinned, finally recognizing the mech._

_“Can’t deny that,” Jazz admitted with a grin. “Gotta say, I never thought ya’d be such a good racer, Barricade.”_

_“I’m Praxian, if I wasn’t good at racing, then I’d have had problems in my neighborhood,” Barricade answered, and that was when Jazz noticed that Barricade’s vents were cycling rapidly too, they were just quiet._

_“Not bad for a tourist,” a new voice broke in, and Jazz and Barricade looked up to see Backbite approaching them both._

_“Ya didn’ do too bad yourself, gettin’ third place when ya wobble,” Jazz goaded, and Backbite growled in response._

_“Please, if we had raced on an actual track, ya’d have been in last place,” Backbite grumbled and Jazz frowned._

_“What’ch’ya mean ‘actual track’?” Jazz asked, and Barricade answered._

_“Tracks like Rubidium are meant to be tourist traps, with the most restrictive of the rules enforced, most of us who live in Praxus usually have a few favorite tracks with rules that allow for more leeway and competition among friends than tracks like these do. The tourist traps however, are better maintained.”_

_Jazz nodded, he had seen several tracks around Praxus since he had arrived decacycles ago, but he had mainly been sticking around Rubidium the whole time._

_The last of the racers from the three’s race crossed the finish line, so they all left the track to go stand in the crowds as the fourth story track got ready for the next scheduled race._

_“So where do you two go to race?” Jazz asked, walking with the two as they made their way up the stands._

_Barricade and Backbite exchanged a glance, and while Backbite frowned, he answered._

_“We usually go to None of Your Fraggin’ Business.”_

_“Never heard of it,” Jazz quipped in reply, and Barricade snorted._

_“That’s funny; it seems to me as if you’d have a knack for finding it.”_

_“Yeah, but this is a whole new city, different rules and everything,” Jazz smiled, putting on his best innocent look. “So, could you take me there?” Jazz asked, and Barricade gave him a curious look._

_“You barely know us, and you’re asking us to take you to a track you’ve never heard of? Do you have any self-preservation at all?” Barricade queried, and Jazz gave a shrug._

_“Well, ya guys are fast, I’m here for the racing, so I figure, if ya like that place, it must be good,” Jazz answered truthfully, and Backbite growled._

_“What, so our track can be invaded by a bunch of tourists? I don’t think so,” the yellow opticed mech snapped, and Jazz hid a frown and Barricade shot his friend a warning look._

_“Ya’re just mad that I can beat your aft at racing,” Jazz snarked, but before Backbite could say his rebuttal, Barricade flicked his helm to get his attention._

_“As fun as it is to watch you bicker, I would like to remind you that you did promise one race only, and that if I beat everyone on the track, the high grade’s on you,” Barricade said pointedly, and Backbite grumbled but relented. “Besides, they are waiting for us, and I don’t want to be late.”_

_“Alright, alright, let’s go,” Backbite answered, walking towards the exit. “I don’t need you to guilt trip me anymore.”_

_Barricade smirked as he turned to follow, nodding to Jazz as he walked past him._

_“How else am I supposed to get you to leave?”_

_Jazz watched the two leave the track, and turned his attention to the race that was just starting, or at least, Jazz watched the race proceedings. His processor instead focused on plotting on how to find one of the tracks that wasn’t an actual tourist trap._

_It took him orns to find a directory of smaller racetracks, mostly because Jazz was an outsider and anyone he talked to was always quick to name all the big time tracks that Jazz had already visited. No one seemed to like the idea of a tourist racing on one of the actual community favorites; they all seemed to prefer that they race on one of the majorly advertised tracks. It was frustrating, but Jazz’s perseverance eventually paid off, and all that was left was selecting a track to go to._

_Jazz knew what track he wanted to go to; he wanted to go to the one that Barricade frequented other than Rubidium. Something about Barricade had struck a chord with him, and Jazz wanted to see where it could lead, and what better way than seeing the mech race on his own turf. The only problem with that was Jazz didn’t know the name of the track, where it was, or even any defining features it might have._

_So Jazz was regulated to driving around Praxus aimlessly, killing time until the night cycle where he would go to Rubidium and see if he could find Barricade again or find some sort of hint about what part of Praxus Barricade was from. Or at least, that was the plan._

_The plan was neatly displaced as Jazz caught sight of what looked eerily similar to Backbite’s alt mode with the same shade of dark green paint and gold accents. Bored, curious, with really nothing to lose, Jazz followed the mech._

_Jazz kept a considerable distance between himself and the mech he was following, taking a few turns here and there, leaving the bustling business section of the city to the more residential area with more family owned businesses. Eventually the green mech stopped and transformed, revealing himself to actually be Backbite like Jazz had suspected, in front the entrance to a racetrack named the Velocity Loop Track._

_Once Backbite was inside the racetrack, Jazz transformed and went up to the entrance where a big mech was waiting, with optics on the monitors that showed the actual tracks inside._

_The mech didn’t even look up from the monitors, but must have heard Jazz approach._

_“Same price.”_

_“I don’t know what that is,” Jazz replied, a casual smile on his faceplates, covering his apprehension, he didn’t know if this mech would be as opposed to a ‘tourist’ on a basically unknown community track like all the others were._

_The mech looked up out of the window to see Jazz standing there, his blue optics brightening in surprise, before his lipplates curled into a large smile that showed too many denta._

_“Don’t get many tourists in these parts,” the mech commented, and Jazz smiled in response. “How’d you find this place?”_

_“It was recommended,” Jazz answered, twisting the truth a bit, and the mech laughed._

_“I don’t believe that for an astrosecond one of my regulars or any of the others that come here recommended this place to you,” the mech told Jazz and Jazz winced and came clean._

_“I overheard two of mechs talking about this place,” Jazz amended, deciding not to tell the whole thing to the mech in the ticket box._

_“Now that, I can believe,” the mech replied, and then told Jazz how much it cost to get in, Jazz looked at him confused._

_“You’re the first mech I met that isn’t completely against a tourist going to a lesser known track.”_

_The mech laughed again._

_“Velocity isn’t a lesser known track, it’s practically unknown! Besides, a customer’s a customer, and credits are credits, doesn’t matter who they’re from or where they get them,” the mech explained, and Jazz grinned, and handed over the credits._

_“Thanks, mech,” Jazz said, stepping through the now open gate._

_“Name’s Roadblock. Pleasure doing business with you,” Roadblock answered, turning his attention back to the monitors._

_Jazz turned his attention to the track itself, looking at the few mechs and femmes that were hanging around the first level. He took the lift to the second, where there were even fewer mechs hanging around, but Jazz saw what he needed to see._

_Two familiar alt modes racing, one glossy black following the road with practiced ease, the other dark green easily keeping pace while driving in reverse._

_“Found ya, Barricade.”_

 

===

 

It had been a long few past months, with Prime authorizing a few mechs’ participation in an international race, in hopes that it would stem the humans’ curiosity regarding the Autobots’ racing habits. The idea behind it had held promise, but when put into action, the race and the plan to curb humanity’s innate need to know things, had been a flop.

 

The plan had been well-founded, and most likely would have been successful if the Decepticons had not attacked only a few days prior to the race, effectively taking Prime, Jazz, and a few others out of the race by order of Ratchet.

 

The humans, who had come to know a specific few Autobots by name and alt-mode, had been vastly disappointed that the Autobots who had participated were ones that were unknown to the general public. So it hadn’t been long after the international race that human reporters were once again clamoring to get information and invites to the Autobot racetrack, in between Decepticon attacks.

 

Earlier that week, Prime had been in the process of telling the group of reporters that it would be some time before the racetrack would be finished, and more for it to be actually ready for use, when Grapple had walked into the Ark, stopped next to Prime and announced that the racetrack was finished, and after a few days of letting the materials settle it would be ready to use.

 

Prowl wasn’t quite sure what Prime had said to calm the reporters down and get them to finally leave the Ark, but he was quite sure that it would end up on his desk sooner or later in the form of an innocent looking datapad. The tactician was already plotting his revenge for his superior, but couldn’t deny that the excitement that had coursed through the Autobot ranks was pervasive and had been effectively sidetracking him.

 

And so, one Decepticon attack later, the specially made road was ready to race on, and was the perfect spot to celebrate both their latest victory and being allowed to actually race.

 

Prowl watched mechs go around and around the track, faster and faster. Not in an actual race, but just reveling in the freedom in going much faster than Earth roads would allow, with various mechs joining and leaving the track around the different turns. It was fun to watch his fellow Autobots to let loose and have fun, and reminded him of the better times in Praxus, pushing his engine as hard as he could for the thrill of the ride.

 

It made Prowl want to get down to the track and join in, but he knew that the moment that he did that, Ratchet would be after him, and Prowl did not want to suffer the indignity of being chased down by Ratchet, in front of everyone else no less, for ignoring medical orders. While he was sure that many of his fellow Autobots would sympathize with his plight, their sympathy and his fresh welding would not hold in a chase involving their resident CMO and a wayward patient.

 

“Ya know, I’m surprised that ya actually showed,” Jazz commented cheerfully, sitting down next to Prowl, his vents cycling hard, having just gotten off the track.

 

“Just because I am currently unable to transform and join the races does not mean that I cannot come and relax while observing others race to their spark’s content,” Prowl answered, smirking in satisfaction as he saw Bluestreak pass Sideswipe cheekily flashing his breaklights.

 

“Careful there, Prowler, mechs’ll start thinkin’ that you’re not as much of a drone as ya look, by comin’ here by your own volition,” Jazz teased, and Prowl snorted.

 

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

 

Jazz snickered and was about to reply when Sideswipe passed Tracks and turned around so that he was driving backwards, serving side to side a little, no doubt taunting the vain blue mech over their comm lines.

 

“Sometimes I really think that Siders really doesn’t have any self-preservation protocols,” Jazz remarked watching the red mech warily as Tracks suddenly put on a burst of speed that brought him closer to Sideswipe’s front bumper.

 

“If you think that this is bad, you should have seen him in Praxus,” Prowl commented, frowning, and Sideswipe did another quick turn so that he was facing in the same direction of the other racers. “There were a few times that he raced full races going in reverse.”

 

Jazz looked back at Prowl, interested. “How’d that go for him?”

 

“While it did inspire a certain amount of awe the first few times from those he raced against and those watching, it did not prove conducive to actually winning once the awe wore off, as he had to go slower and often crashed,” Prowl answered and Jazz chuckled.

 

“I take it that ya know this so well, because ya used it to your advantage to beat him?”

 

“While I did do that on the occasions that he decided to pull that stunt on me,” Prowl allowed with a small smile. “I can assure you that I have never needed that slight advantage to beat Sideswipe in a race.”

 

“Ya keep talkin’ a big game there, mech, but I’ve yet to see ya put your credits where your mouth is and actually do it,” Jazz challenged, and Prowl chuckled lightly.

 

“Very well, Jazz, as soon as Ratchet clears me, I will, as you said, put my credits where my mouth is, and give you a good run for yours,” Prowl promised, his optics sparking with mischief, Jazz grinned widely, his spark pulsing just a little faster at the sight of Prowl smirking in mischief.

 

“Please mech, don’t delude yourself, ya ain’t gonna beat me at racing,” Jazz scoffed playfully.

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

“I’m holdin’ ya to that, mech.”


	5. Chapter 5

_“I’m falling in love but it’s falling apart,_

_I need to find my way back to the start,_

_When we were in love, oh things were better than they are,_

_Let me back into, into your arms, into your arms.”_

– “Into Your Arms” – The Maine

 

_True to his word, Jazz went to the Vela Quadrant’s Enforcer Station right after his work shift. He felt a little light headed as he walked through the doors to the main desk and told the receptionist his name and why he was there. Jazz knew that he probably should have had some energon before going to the station, but with the way his spark was pulsing too fast in complete disbelief and shock at what was going on, he would have most likely purged it the moment he walked through the doors._

_He smiled thinly at the receptionist when he was told to sit and wait for Downshift; this wasn’t the receptionist’s fault, so there was no need to take Jazz’s frustration out on him._

_It didn’t take long for Downshift to appear, asking Jazz to follow. They passed several different mechs, some were signing in for their shifts, others were escorting mechs into the jail cells, a few mechs were being released, and while all the activity around him was somewhat distracting, Jazz just couldn’t get to wherever it was they were going fast enough._

_He just wanted this orn to be over and done with, so he could go home and curl up in his berth and lament on his own stupidity and this entire situation._

_Jazz was taken into a small room with chairs and Downshift gestured for him to sit down, Jazz did so and the enforcer took a seat opposite of him._

_“Thank you for coming, Jazz,” Downshift began, and Jazz gave him a wry smile._

_“Yeah, well it’s not like I had anything else to do.”_

_Downshift nodded and started to ask Jazz questions. They were simple enough to begin with: Where did he live, what Jazz’s job was, and other things of that nature._

_Downshift had given him a confused smile when he realized that Jazz was in the process of becoming a permanent citizen of Praxus._

_“Many tourists like to visit, but few would actually like to live here,” Downshift had remarked, and Jazz had shrugged._

_“Polyhex and Iacon are nice an’ all, but I like it here better,” Jazz answered, and Downshift nodded and began to ask more specific questions._

_Jazz was asked about what he had seen while he had been at the Velocity Loop, if there had been any specific mechs that had stood out to Jazz. He was also asked about what he was doing at certain dates and times, which had caused a flash of irritation in Jazz, how was he supposed to remember what happened at such and such a time when it had happened metacycles ago? There was only one date that Jazz was actually recognized._

_“Yeah, I remember that night, I met Ca-Barricade over at Rubidium then, it was the first time I raced against him.”_

_Downshift nodded absently._

_“Yes, our files show that you were racing both suspects Barricade and Backbite that night at Rubidium. You saw them leave to the Zeta Docks?”_

_“No, they left through the south exit,” Jazz answered, and Downshift’s helm snapped up to stare at Jazz with a flash of shock before it was quickly covered up with a polite smile._

_“Just because you saw them leave through the south exit doesn’t mean they couldn’t have gone north to the Zeta Docks,” Downshift said, his tone patronizing. “Besides, we have video footage from the traffic cameras past the Crystal Boulevard heading to the docks 30 breems after the conclusion of your race.”_

_Jazz stared at Downshift in complete disbelief, either the mech was an idiot or he didn’t know the streets of Praxus all that well, either of which were a distressing aspect for an enforcer to have. Jazz had only spent around a vorn of driving around on the streets of Praxus, and one thing was common knowledge; the traffic around the Rubidium track was generally bad. If Barricade and Backbite had gone north after leaving the south exit, it would have taken around 20 breems for them to turn around in order to go north, and while Crystal Boulevard was maybe a quarter of the way between Rubidium and the Zeta docks, it still would’ve taken them around another 30 breems to get there._

_Something wasn’t right, and given the brief shocked look that Jazz had seen, he was willing to bet that Downshift knew that too._

_After that, the questioning wrapped up quickly, and Jazz’s suspicion grew as it became apparent that Downshift was trying to finish quickly and get Jazz out of there. It wasn’t long before the enforcer had Jazz out of the room, through the lobby and out of the front doors of the station. After the doors behind him closed, Jazz glanced back at the station, frowning, and then headed back to his apartment, his processor whirling through what had just happened._

_While Jazz wasn’t all that suspicious in nature, he did have a keen sense of when something was skeevy, and at that moment, all his senses were screaming at him that something wasn’t right. It was more than enough for Jazz to review what he knew of Barricade and to cross reference all the dates that Downshift had mentioned. While it was hard to recall the exact date that Jazz had been somewhere with Barricade, it would be simple enough to find out, and it was enough to decide Jazz’s next course of action._

_When Jazz and Barricade had gone out together, they had often gone racing at one of the lesser known tracks, or out to eat at obscure places. They were mostly places that wouldn’t have exact records of who ate there at a certain time like the Rubidium track did, which would make it hard for the enforcers to get a solid lead on where Barricade had been. But Jazz, who had been to those places with Barricade, had kept track through keeping track of each transaction of credits spent and earned. It wasn’t hard for Jazz to pull out the datapad that he used for that purpose when he got home, and look up the dates that Downshift had mentioned._

_What Jazz found was disturbing, with the exception of seven of the dates, Barricade had been with Jazz in a section of the city that was, at the very least, a joor away from where Downshift had said Barricade had been. It also led Jazz to another point of interest, the dates and times were too perfect and exact for a general estimation, like an enforcer had been present at each one of the dates provided._

_Undercover work wasn’t a strange concept to Jazz at all, he knew it had been commonly used to break up gangs in Polyhex, but an undercover enforcer that claimed Barricade had been there when he clearly wasn’t most of the dates, screamed to Jazz that either the enforcer had a grudge against Barricade, or that the enforcer was covering for someone else by placing Barricade at the scene._

_Jazz wasn’t one to make excuses for others, especially when it involved the illegal sale of weapons and dark energon, but if Barricade was being framed for something that he didn’t do, then Jazz would help him._

_Processor made up, Jazz began to research the Velocity Loop track, hacking into the track’s city records and the mechs that Jazz often saw there. If Barricade was going to jail, Jazz would make sure that it would be for legitimate reasons, not because of some scheming enforcer with a grudge._

_And if there wasn’t a legitimate reason, then Jazz would help Barricade get out of there and then proceed to beat the Praxian over the head for the real reason that Barricade had left the night before._

 

===

 

When Prowl’s chronometer pinged to signal the end of his shift, he finished the report that he had been working on and then left his office, locking it up. He went down the halls of the Ark to the Rec Room, where he got two cubes of energon, and promptly left the room, only pausing to greet his brother on the way out. He headed back to the offices, and once he reached his destination, he balanced the two cubes in one hand and knocked on the door.

 

A faint, “Come in,” was heard, and the door opened and Prowl stepped into chaos.

 

Datapads were strewn across the room, some in haphazard stacks that went up to Prowl’s waist, while others were in small piles. At the center of it all, sat Jazz at his desk, surrounded by more datapads, looking more and more disgruntled with each passing klick.

 

Prowl slowly made his way to Jazz, taking care not to step on any of the datapads that were on the floor, though he was well aware that they were blank and simply made to look like they contained information. Prowl handed Jazz one of the cubes, and turning to the seats in the office, cleared one of its datapads, moving them to the other seat, and sat down.

 

Jazz gave the cube and Prowl a curious look, as he put down the datapad he had been working on and took a sip.

 

“Ya know, I remember this goin’ a little differently,” Jazz said, his lipplates twitching in amusement.

 

“Ah, yes,” Prowl agreed, “with a much cleaner, orderly office, with me sitting behind the desk, and you in the chair giving me the energon, saying I need to take a break and relax.”

 

Jazz took a gulp of his energon; he hadn’t realized how low he’d been until he had seen Prowl with the cubes.

 

“I think I like this version better, it actually gets you out of your office,” Jazz teased, and finished off half of his cube.

 

“And yet, into another,” Prowl remarked, gesturing with his free hand around the room, and took a sip of his own energon, and Jazz nodded, conceding to the point.

 

“It’s still an improvement over you staying in yours, and since you’re out, we can start working on keeping you out of there. I’d help, but for once I’m the one bogged down with reports.”

 

“Is there something in the reports that is a problem?”

 

“There aren’t any problems, the track’s been up and running for the better part of a month now, and we haven’t heard so much as a peep from the ‘Cons. Not even from Starscream, and he’s long overdue for a takeover attempt. It’s…” Jazz struggled for words.

 

“Troubling?” Prowl offered, and Jazz nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Prowl watched as Jazz leaned back in his chair and finished his cube, tossing it in the general direction of the waste basket in the corner of the room.

 

“You and your operatives have been working hard to locate the Decepticons’ latest base of operations, and the humans have been on the look-out as well, so there is nothing more we can do but wait,” Prowl said, taking another sip of his cube.

 

“I hate waiting.”

 

“I know, but you should remember that good things come to those who wait,” Prowl replied, a slight smile playing on his lipplates.

 

“Right, and the Decepticons showing up is a good thing?”

 

“Well, in this case, yes, as we would then at least have an idea of what they were up to,” Prowl said. “However, in this case I was thinking of something that is far more pleasant.”

 

Jazz sat up straight in his chair, watching Prowl finish off his cube.

 

“You’re getting at somethin.”

 

“Yes, though you have been preoccupied with work related things, so it is forgivable that you haven’t noticed,” Prowl conceded, and smirked when Jazz frowned at him. “Ratchet cleared me for full active duty this morning.”

 

“Well,” Jazz began, not quite sure why that was all that important to him beyond that a good friend of his was completely repaired. “That’s good, we’ve been missing you out on the field, your plans usually go better when you’re out there, which is always a plus. But I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

 

“What I mean, is that I’m cleared by Ratchet, we both have time, the track is mostly free of mechs, and I owe you a race,” Prowl said, and Jazz’s visor glowed in understanding as he laughed.

 

“Sounds good to me. Good things come to those who wait, right? And I did have to wait such a long time,” Jazz replied, his voice ending in a coy tone.

 

“Exactly, I’ll meet you at the track,” Prowl answered and slipped out of the room.

 

===

 

Prowl’s back bumper came even with Jazz’s front bumper as they pulled out of the turn.

 

Taking that as a personal affront from the mech that spent most of his time sitting still in his office, Jazz gunned his engine harder, trying to come even with Prowl as they neared the last turn of the newly created track. He was not going to let Prowl beat him.

 

When they reached the corner of the last turn, Prowl’s front bumper shifted slightly towards Jazz, and when they were coming out of the turn, Prowl revved his engine harder and jolted sideways into Jazz. It was a tactical move that Jazz had seen several times while racing in Praxus, by coming at another racer directly at the side while shortly increasing the output of the mech’s hovers often disrupted the flow of the other racer’s hover control. When it worked, it pushed the receiver away from the one who initiated it, clearing the way for them to push forward more.

 

It was a legal move in most tracks, and while Jazz was surprised that Prowl was using it, the saboteur was also amused that Prowl had failed to account for two things. One, while the move had once lost him several races, he had long since learned how to control most of his system’s automatic response to it, but that hardly mattered, because two, they weren’t on hovers, they were on wheels which provided a different kind of friction, one that Prowl obviously wasn’t all that used to while racing at his top speed, especially combined with systems that used to control his hovers. So, instead, Prowl went careening off in the other direction as they pulled out of the turn, securing Jazz’s victory against him.

 

Jazz transformed and went over to help his friend get up, chuckling as he went.

 

“We really need you to get you used to the friction, mech.”

 

“Yes, I was not expecting that,” Prowl said, and Jazz laughed harder, because frag it, it was funny that something that most of the other mechs had become used to on Earth had taken the tactician by surprise.

 

Prowl gave Jazz a small self-depreciating smile, and right then Jazz wanted to pull Prowl close to him, because seeing Prowl relaxed and not worrying about a minor mistake, because of something to do with the war, was so rare and precious.

 

Of course, the moment was ruined.

 

 “Prowl did you really just lose to _Jazz_?”

 

Both black and white mechs looked up from where they were standing and saw Sideswipe and Bluestreak all standing at the edge of the track.

 

 “Yep, have a problem with that, Siders?” Jazz teased.

 

“Yes, I’m mildly insulted that the mech I’d lose to regularly in Praxus, just lost to you. C’mon Prowl, we gotta get you used to racing with wheels,” Sideswipe said, and Jazz frowned in response.

 

“Hey, he’s my racing partner today, race Blue!”

 

“Actually, Red Alert wanted to talk to you Jazz, he said that it was urgent and that you weren’t answering your comm., he used Teletraan 1 to locate your spark signature, and since Siders and I were coming to the track anyway, he asked us to tell you that he needs you back at the Ark.”

 

Jazz frowned, wasn’t that just a great thing to hear when he was hanging out with Prowl, actually outside of the Ark.

 

“If the matter is so urgent, then maybe I should return as well to see what’s going on,” Prowl said and Jazz shook his head.

 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I know what Red’s on about now. Has to do with some intel and bolstering anti-virals, nothing that’s really in your field.”

 

“If you’re sure,” Prowl said, and Bluestreak grabbed his arm and began to drag his brother back onto the track.

 

“Then you can race with me and Sideswipe, Prowl!”

 

Jazz grinned at Bluestreak, pleased that the gunner had come to the same conclusion that Jazz had wanted him to come to; Prowl should be out of the Ark and relax for a while.

 

“If it doesn’t take too long, I’ll come back so we can race some more, so don’t wear him out too much!” Jazz called after the three of them walking onto the track.

 

He turned and left the track, transforming into his alt mode and heading back towards the Ark.

 

===

 

It took a little over two hours to sort everything out with Red Alert.

 

Jazz checked in with Teletraan 1 to see if Prowl was still at the track, and upon seeing that he still was, Jazz left the Ark to go to the track.

 

Once he was there, Jazz stood near the Cybertronian sized stands that Grapple had also helped construct, and simply watched his best friend race his brother and Sideswipe. From his outside vantage point, Jazz was able to observe how his long-time friend raced much better than when he had been concentrating on racing him.

 

While Jazz watched, something in the back of his processor insisted that something about Prowl’s racing looked familiar.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _You got all the friends you need,_

_Bad tattoos and worse ideas,_

_You feel alive,_

_Do you feel alive?”_

-       “One More Weekend” by The Academy Is…

 

 

_It was a decaorn before Jazz saw Barricade again._

_He had been going to Velocity Loop semi-regularly since his discovery of it, and he had to admit that Barricade and Backbite had been correct, this race track was much better than Rubidium. It didn’t have all the glitz and glamour that Rubidium did, nor did it have the immense crowds of mechs, instead Velocity was much more low key, mechs were there to have a few quick races amongst friends, they weren’t there to see and be seen, mechs went to Velocity to race. That was what made all the difference to Jazz, he had originally come to Praxus to race, and while the Rubidium track was awe inspiring, he had found a hidden gem here._

_Sure, Jazz had seen a few mechs gather outside Velocity, most likely selling dark energon or something equally illegal, but the only time Jazz had seen anything illegal happen inside the track, Roadblock had tossed the mechs out on their afts and banned them from the track. This made it more of a safe haven than Jazz had originally thought, and so he had become a regular, and while he was disappointed that he hadn’t seen Barricade since that first orn, he still enjoyed the racetrack._

_So few orns later, when Jazz arrived at the track and he was delighted to see Barricade standing there with a few other mechs, and he just couldn’t help himself._

_“Long time no see, Cade!”_

_Five sets of optics landed on him and stared, and Jazz felt the need to twitch - was there something on his face? – but he remained still with a smile on his lipplates._

_Finally one pair of red optics turned to look at Barricade._

_“You know this mech, Barricade?”_

_“Yes,” Barricade said, and Jazz felt like laughing, the mech sounded dumbfounded._

_“What he means is that we met him at Rubidium a while ago, he’s a **tourist** ,” Backbite said, walking up to the group of mechs, yellow optics glaring at the rest of them, before landing on Jazz. “How the frag did you find this place?”_

_“Well, you recommended it, though I gotta say you’re horrible at givin a mech directions, place isn’t even named ‘None of Your Fraggin’ Business’. I thought that’s a cool name for a track, but then you had to shatter all my hopes and dreams Backbite.”_

_Backbite groaned in aggravation, Barricade snorted, and Roadblock began laughing at the green mech’s expense. That was when Jazz began to notice that the rest of the mechs began to relax slightly, except for the one in the middle who was studying Jazz like a science experiment, he was the same one who had addressed Barricade after Jazz._

_“Well then, Barricade, we’ll leave you to your tourist friend, don’t be late to the meet up,” the mech said turning to walk away._

_“Don’t worry, we’ll be there boss,” Backbite answered, his tone flippant and Barricade nodded._

_“I’ll walk you out Crasher,” Roadblock said, his large frame easily catching up to the smaller mech, and the other two mechs that had been with Barricade, Roadblock, and the newly identified Crasher began to wander off, leaving Jazz with Barricade and Backbite._

_Jazz looked over at Barricade when he heard the mech make a long ex-vent._

_“How did you find this place? I know tourist centers have a few smaller tracks that they recommend, but no tourist center would ever recommend a track this small scale and out of the way,” Barricade said, and Jazz smiled and gestured at Backbite._

_“I followed him here one orn.”_

_Backbite groaned and Barricade chuckled._

_“You really are persistent, aren’t you?”_

_“You guys were all secretive about it, and I like figurin’ out secrets. Besides, you were right, this is an awesome track,” Jazz explained, pleased with himself._

_“You’re going to ruin everything!” Backbite snarled, his optics flashing and his fists rising._

_Barricade was quick to grab the green mech’s wrists._

_“Backbite,” Barricade hissed, and Backbite lowered his fists and glared at Barricade._

_“He’s going to ruin it!” Backbite protested loudly, then paused as if something had just occurred to the green mech, as he continued after a beat of silence in a whine, “all the tourists are going to come here now!”_

_“Hey, I’ll have you know that I’m applying to be a citizen here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me a tourist,” Jazz said, not liking the sudden tension that was there. He didn’t like the way Backbite had reacted; there had to have been something more than just Jazz being a tourist. It had to be something else, he was misreading something, and when it dawned on him just what it could be, Jazz honestly felt bad. “Oh frag mech! I’m so sorry; I didn’t realize that ya guys were together!”_

_Yellow optics brightened in what looked like horror as Backbite stood there dumbfounded. Barricade on the other hand, gave Jazz a small smile._

_“It’s fine, we needed to spice things up anyway,” Barricade told Jazz in a completely sincere tone, which almost had Jazz believing it, until a klick later when Backbite snapped out of his stupor and slapped Barricade’s hands away from him._

_“No! You’re almost another brother to me, Cade! No. Fragging. Way!” Backbite protested, stepping away from his friend._

_Barricade began chuckling at Backbite’s reaction with Jazz joining in, and Backbite groaned._

_“Frag this, I’m going home. See ya later, Cade,” Backbite said, turning around and heading for the exit._

_“Did I frag him off that much?” Jazz asked, his voice serious, and Barricade shook his head._

_“No, give him a few orns and he’ll be laughing about it as well,” Barricade explained, looking over at Jazz. “And thank you for that, things have been… hard for him lately, and he hasn’t had something to laugh about in a while, so he really needed that.”_

_“You’re welcome,” Jazz said, smiling back at Barricade. “But I did mean what I said, if you’re involved with someone or something’s going on, I’ll back off.”_

_“While I don’t think starting something now would be all that wise, I am enjoying your company and wouldn’t mind racing you again,” Barricade said his tone careful._

_Jazz felt a little hurt that this mech that he was pretty much smitten with really wasn’t interested in actually starting something with him. But Jazz was grateful, better that the mech tell him right now that Barricade’s own situation wasn’t looking good for an actual relationship, than for Jazz to be strung along and have his spark broken. So Jazz gave Barricade a wide smile, and an honest answer, holding out his servo for the other mech to shake._

_“That’s fine, mech; I wouldn’t mind racing you again either.”_

 

===

 

Prowl had known that it was bound to happen sooner or later, with later being the much more preferable time. He hadn’t been putting off preparing for it, not exactly; he just didn’t want to run the calculations needed when he had other work to do. Because running calculations predicting future human behavior often gave him a processor ache with all the variables that they provided, especially when they included political agendas and the odd things that humans would fixate on.

 

So when Optimus Prime announced in an officer meeting that he planned on inviting a few reporters to the track to broadcast a race in order to calm human concerns about the track, sooner had come instead of later, and Prowl felt like kicking himself for not being prepared for this. Because as unpredictable and illogical as humans were, Optimus Prime was predictable, and Prowl really should have accounted for this and been prepared for the inevitability. But going over ‘should haves’ and ‘could haves’ would not be helpful in least, so instead Prowl focused on getting everything ready.

 

Bumblebee, Hound, and Bluestreak were in charge of keeping tabs on the human reporters and making sure that they didn’t wander away from the stands while the race was going on. Blaster was in charge of the general broadcast of the human stations. And, by Optimus’ insistence, Grapple was put in charge of being the general host for the humans, and was tasked with informing the reporters about the differences of human racetracks from Cybertronian ones.

 

All that was left was finding a few Autobots that wouldn’t mind racing each other for the humans to watch. It wasn’t too hard to find a few mechs willing to be put on display racing, but there were a few that simply didn’t have a choice in the matter. Which was exactly what Prowl told Jazz.

 

“No prob, Prowl,” Jazz said, leaning back in the chair he was seated in across from Prowl’s desk. “I was gonna ask to participate anyway, didn’t get to last time.”

 

“Thank you, Jazz, I trust that with you there racing as well, it will keep the others’ antics to a more acceptable level. We are after all, trying to keep the humans’ trust, not cause them to be more suspicious,” Prowl said, looking over the datapad about the live international broadcast of the race.

 

“So you think that having an officer race with the others is gonna make them think before they do somethin stupid?”

 

“Yes, that is the desired outcome,” Prowl answered, not looking up from his work, and therefore missing the sudden grin that covered Jazz’s faceplates.

 

“So, by that logic, having another officer racing with them would deter even Sideswipe’s more devious plans,” Jazz paused, and Prowl nodded in agreement absently. “So nice of you to agree with me Prowl, especially ‘cause I know you’re not going to be doing anything that day, which makes you the perfect officer to help keep the rest of us in line.”

 

Prowl looked up in shock, and then rested his helm in one servo, recognizing that he’d been had. That was the problem with organizing these politically friendly gatherings for Prime; it distracted Prowl from things that he should have been aware of happening.

 

“Very well, I shall participate in the broadcasted race.”

 

Jazz stood up and leaned on Prowl’s desk.

 

“So good of you to volunteer, Prowler,” Jazz teased and then walked out of Prowl’s office, the SIC’s exasperated laugh following him out.

 

===

 

“Do I even want to know what Prime did to make you agree to do this?” Sideswipe asked as they walked to the starting line.

 

“Prime didn’t do anything,” Prowl said, studiously ignoring the pictures that the reporters were taking, he did have a reputation of being an unfeeling aft to maintain.

 

Sideswipe on the other hand was eating up the attention like energon goodies, and was waving at the various cameras while talking to Prowl.

 

“Oh come on, Prime had to have done something to get you to agree to do this. It’s okay if you’re embarrassed, I won’t tell anyone,” Sideswipe goaded, his faceplates the picture of pure innocence.

 

Jazz laughed, coming up behind the two.

 

“Nah, Prime didn’t have to do nothing. Let’s just say that Prowler here can’t argue with my logic.”

 

“What?” Sideswipe turned to Prowl, his optics bright.

 

“He turned my own logic against me,” Prowl answered semi-mournfully and Jazz laughed harder.

 

 “Nicely done,” Sideswipe conceded, giving Jazz a look of grudging respect as they reached the starting line. “Look at it this way Prowl; you’ll be redeeming my honor by beating him in this race.”

 

Prowl gave Sideswipe an unimpressed look.

 

“Yes, because I live to redeem your non-existent honor.”

 

“As you should,” Sideswipe said primly as all of the participating mechs transformed.

 

“It’s nice that you think Prowler actually has a chance of beating me, but I’m not losing this race,” Jazz said revving his engine.

 

“That’s funny, I remember more than a few mechs saying that back in Praxus,” Sideswipe snarked, causing Prowl to let out a soft chuckle.

 

Before Jazz had a chance to reply, Grapple spoke up and began the countdown to begin the race.

 

The crowd of humans and mechs in the stands were silent as Grapple counted down from 5, it was somewhat eerie, but it was all good, because they came here for a show, and the mechs racing were sure to deliver.

 

When Grapple reached ‘two’ silence fell over the crowd gathered.

 

At ‘one’ seven engines revved loudly, with the loudest being that of Optimus Prime’s.

 

 “Start!” Grapple yelled, and seven mechs tore down the track, Sideswipe easily taking the lead but was being closely followed by Mirage.

 

The rest of the racers sort of fell in after them, content to bide their time, as they had 20 laps to go, which was plenty of time for Jazz to overtake both of them.

 

It was too bad, Jazz thought, that he wouldn’t be able to hear most of Grapple’s commentary about the race until it was over. He was sure that the architect would have a few things to say about all the hard unappreciated work that he put into the track, something that scientists would probably appreciate, but humanity’s general populace not so much. It would most likely lead to Grapple returning to the Ark and complaining to Hoist about how even another species didn’t properly appreciate his work.

 

Instead, Jazz focused on the feel of the specially produced Tungsten-Cybertronian beneath his wheels, enjoying the nostalgia laced freedom that racing brought him as he passed Prime and came even with Cliffjumper by the end of the first lap.

 

At the last turn of the second lap, Jazz slipped by Cliffjumper and came even with both Prowl and Wheeljack.

 

By the fourth lap, Jazz figured that what Sideswipe and Mirage were trying to simply get as much of a lead on the rest of the mechs that they could. The saboteur decided that it was high time for them to be overtaken, but Wheeljack, to Jazz’s left, was having none of that. The engineer was pretty fast in his own right, and he wasn’t about to let Jazz overtake him so easily, so as Jazz came forward, the engineer cheekily swerved close to Jazz, pressing Jazz close to the edge of the track, preventing the saboteur from getting ahead as easily.

 

Prowl took advantage of Wheeljack’s attention on Jazz, and came closer to Wheeljack’s rear bumper, and let loose a small pulse through his field, which caused Wheeljack to lose traction in his rear wheels, fishtailing out and allowing Prowl to overtake both Wheeljack and Jazz.

 

Jazz felt his spark freeze and coolant pump harder through his frame as he kept on going. That move was too familiar, way too similar to another, with the only slight differences being the different alt mode and the ease with which it was pulled off. Every mech or femme who raced on the tracks had a favorite maneuver that they preferred to use, but that one, that one Jazz had seen several times, but there was no way…

 

Jazz was cut off from his musing when Cliffjumper began to nudge Jazz’s back bumper, trying to catch Jazz by surprise and over steer, The black and white saboteur decided to take advantage of Wheeljack getting back into position, pulling up to be side by side to the engineer, and began to move slightly diagonally towards Wheeljack, letting his front bumper nudge Wheeljack’s out of the way and put the engineer in front of Cliffjumper. Effectively cutting the minibot off, and placing Jazz in front of Wheeljack.

 

Jazz was beginning to plan his next move to put himself ahead of Prowl, when his world was engulfed in a flash of bright light followed by pain.

 

===

 

Simple reflection would later tell Optimus Prime that it should have been obvious. Hindsight would show him that he could have prepared for the inevitable. But as it was, he wasn’t prepared, none of them were, and ultimately he would take the blame for not noticing the simple flaw.

 

Optimus had to admit, it was a good plan, even if it was bound to happen with their preoccupation with the race and human reporters. Inviting the reporters, and broadcasting the race worldwide, was an excellent way of bringing about goodwill and lowering general suspicion of them, as well as poking fun at Grapple for a bit. However it had the added problem that anyone could watch, anyone, anywhere, and as such, there was no secret as to who was where or doing what at the track. It was a deceptively easy way to gather intel and stage an attack.

 

“DECEPTICON ATTACK!”

 

Optimus Prime transformed and prepared himself for the incoming assault, watching in grim acceptance of his shortcomings, and had to admit to himself, that Megatron really knew how to turn the Prime’s allies against him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a long time in coming, so much for my thinking that it would be easier to write. That it actually took this long to finish is really irritating for me, but I’m absolutely determined to finish this thing. Feedback is always appreciated.

_“One more point of contention,_   
_I need some intervention_   
_Approached with vague intentions_   
_betray my short attention span_   
_The distance, bridge the border_   
_Beg forgiveness, round the corner”_

-       “Everytime I look for You” – Blink 182

_Jazz walked through his front door and resisted the urge to slam his helm into the wall._

_It had been meta-cycles, since Barricade’s arrest, since Jazz had even seen Barricade, since Jazz had found the flaws in the sentencing of Barricade._

_But no one listened._

_Not the enforcers in charge of the case, not the lawyers who were supposed to be defending Barricade, if they even existed, which Jazz sincerely doubted. Nothing about Barricade’s sentencing made any sense if someone took a close look at them. There were too many inconsistencies that just didn’t add up like the sentencing of the others’ did, the only other mech’s charges that came close to being odd was Backbite’s. The mech was charged and convicted of public indecency and vandalism, which – while right up Backbite’s alley – did not really fit in with the charges of dark energon and weapon smuggling that the others that had been hauled in had been charged._

_But not only was it hard for anyone to pay attention to information that Jazz found to be completely obvious, Barricade’s trial had come and gone with little notice, with Jazz only finding out after that the Praxian had been convicted and sent off to the prison on the outskirts of Praxus. Which left Jazz with evidence of a convicted mech’s innocence, feeling like his life had become some sort of sick twisted entertainment vid, with nothing to do with the evidence except try and get it to Barricade, whom he still had not actually seen since that one night cycle over a vorn ago._

_So Jazz had gone to the prison, with the intents of using visiting hours to talk to Barricade, which so far as Jazz had figured that no one would really question, who would care about the jilted lover coming to complain and yell at the imprisoned mech?_

_Only, Jazz still couldn’t see Barricade, the guards never said anything bad was going on, so the first time Jazz shrugged it off, the second time, Jazz was a little suspicious, but now they had turned Jazz away a third time, which cemented the idea that Something Was Up. It left Jazz with two choices, either forget about Barricade all together and move on or help a mech that the system had turned against for seemingly no reason._

_Exhaling loudly, Jazz moved to sit on his berth, and stared out the window, he knew which choice he would make, what option would let him recharge at night. Processor made up, Jazz laid down on the berth, he had a lot of planning to do, and it would go better after he had some recharge._

_Two meta-cycles later, Jazz was all set to proceed with his plan._

_It wasn’t his smartest plan, Jazz easily admitted, but it played with his strengths well enough that it would be simple to pull off, as long as he played it cool and pretended he was there for something else._

_Jazz paused at the door of the room he was hidden in and steeling himself for what was to come, and briefly wondering how the pit a semi-sort-of romantic friendship he had going with a mech for a mere vorn would lead to this level of obsession. Jazz roughly pushed the thought aside, he could get his processor checked later, he needed to focus._

_Jazz drove to the prison, steeling himself for what he was about to do. Hacking into the prison’s network had been a no go, making the only feasible way of getting the prison’s information on the case and Barricade’s condition, because there was no way something wasn’t wrong if Barricade had been denied visitors three times, was to take it directly from the source. Which was what Jazz was going to do._

_Conveniently armed with a special delivery to the prison’s warden, Jazz would be able to get into the warden’s office and hopefully distract the warden long enough to get the information he needed._

_At least that had been the plan._

_As Jazz came into sight of the prison, going over different ideas that might work to draw the warden out of the office for a few breems a loud explosion rocked the surrounding area._

_And the prison went up in flames._

_By the end of the orn, the newsfeeds claimed that the attack had been by a group of extremists from Kaon, who had claimed that the prison was wrongfully imprisoning mechs. A point that Jazz could agree with as his difficulties trying to help Barricade lent itself well to that theory._

_A few orns later, a list of “violent and dangerous” criminals who had escaped from the prison was released, cautioning the citizens of Praxus._

_Barricade was not on the list, which could mean one of several things. One, he had escaped, but was not what the enforcers were classifying as “violent and dangerous”, which was definitely a good thing. Two, Barricade had been one of the prisoners who had been recaptured already; the second best option, though it put Jazz back at square one. Three, Barricade was not listed because he had died in the attack._

_Jazz stared, unseeing, out of his apartment’s window, his fingers tapping a quick staccato on the arm of his chair._

_“Let’s hope it’s one of the first two,” Jazz said his voice quiet. He then stood and began to get ready for the orn’s work shift._

_At least with those two outcomes, Barricade was still alive._

===

At the sight of the incoming Decepticons, Sunstreaker was one of the first to react, pulling his gun out of subspace and firing, working his way from the stands to cover for the mechs that were on the track.

Sunstreaker could admit that it was a good tactic, concentrating the beginning of the attack on those racing, trying to take both the SIC and TIC out. So far, it looked like they might have been successful, which meant that the first order of business was to clear a path for Ratchet to get through. Sunstreaker absently noted Bluestreak’s location, standing guard over the evacuating humans while firing at the Decepticons.

As the mechs that had been on the track were those who were hit first in the surprise attack, Sunstreaker began to feel a muted horror begin to spread as minutes began to go by, and they had yet to hear anything from the mechs that had been obscured by the smoke. It was only quelled when Blaster cleared the airwaves from Soundwave’s interference and Prowl’s level voice was heard giving orders.

Sunstreaker punched Wildrider in the faceplate as Sideswipe came bounding out of the smoke, jump kicking the Decepticon away from him and his brother.

Sideswipe’s grin was wide as he locked optics with his twin.

“Ready for some jet judo, bro?” Sideswipe asked, and Sunstreaker’s return smile was more feral than his brother’s.

“Sounds fun,” Sunstreaker said, his optics scanning the sky. “I’ll take Skywarp.”

“Sure thing,” Sideswipe answered, grabbing the yellow mech and activating his jetpack, to boost into the sky.

Sideswipe could not have timed it any better, getting close enough to Skywarp that Sunstreaker was able to leap away and grab a purple wing tip just before the mech teleported.

It was always a rush hanging onto a mech that was simultaneously teleporting and performing all sorts of air maneuvers that was trying to get Sunstreaker to lose his grip and fall to the ground. Just when Sunstreaker had managed to move his grip to a more stable location on Skywarp’s chassis, Bluestreak’s name over his comm. line drew his attention to what was going on on the ground below.

Bluestreak was face-down on the ground with black smoke coming out from his doorwings. Bumblebee was calling for Ratchet over the comm. line, but they were still a mech short with Decepticons zeroing in on the weakened unit. Automatically Sunstreaker’s servos went about manipulating Skywarp’s wings to force him into a full dive towards the ground near the group of mechs to provide the needed back up and covering fire for Ratchet.

Sunstreaker was reassured by what he saw of the damage on Bluestreak, as it certainly did not look life threatening, but the younger mech was out, and considering how sensitive Sunstreaker knew doorwings were, it was probably for the best. So Sunstreaker focused on the battle, knowing he would have time to fret over the grey mech later, right then there were Decepticons to kill.

===

Jazz walked up the ramp into Skyfire’s hold, not willing to risk Ratchet’s wrath to chance transforming and driving back to the Ark. While the initial damage he had taken had hampered his transformation ability and caused his systems to reset, he had been fine enough to participate in the battle. Though his transformation to root mode before had been a choice between more damage from transforming or worse damage from the Decepticons firing on him sitting there in his alt mode. He chose more damage with the benefit of fighting back, which given the situation was understandable, but to do so again, needlessly? Jazz could do without the extra dents.

Jazz watched as Ratchet loaded Bluestreak up, strapping the gunner face down in order to not further damage the gunner’s doorwings. Prowl sat down next to Bluestreak once Ratchet moved aside, as there was nothing the medic could really do until they got back.

Once settled, Prowl glanced around the hold, his optics catching Jazz’s visor across from him. Jazz felt Prowl look him over for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jazz said.

Prowl looked up somewhat startled at having been caught.

“Are you sure? You took a pretty bad hit on the track,” Prowl responded, and Jazz forced a smile, trying to make it as easy as he could.

“Nothin’ Ratch can’t fix,” Jazz said, only relaxing once Prowl seemed satisfied and turned his attention back to his injured brother.

Which, if Jazz really thought about it, it didn’t make sense, or at least it wasn’t in line with his recent thoughts about Prowl. Because while Prowl was a loyal and devoted caretaker to Bluestreak, Barricade had never mentioned a brother, or family of any sort. So there was no way that Prowl could be Barricade, no way at all, even if they raced the same, used the same tricks, and both had mentioned at some point that in Praxus it was expected for a mech to race on the tracks.

Jazz resisted the urge to curl into himself as thoughts and memories assaulted him. There was no need to worry anyone over something that Jazz should have gotten over a lifetime ago, so he offlined his visor, letting his helm rest against the wall of Skyfire’s hold, silencing his vocalizer and tried to comfort himself with reality.

The reality was, Praxus had been a large city, with a million native mechs, so it was not completely unlikely that the abilities and likes of some mechs were similar to others. The reality was that Prowl was a devoted older brother who raised Bluestreak and would not have abandoned and ignored his existence for more than 10 vorns being the lackey of a crime boss.

The reality was that Barricade was dead.

===

Sunstreaker waited outside of the medbay, watching the door passively while taking stock of the damage his finish had taken, calculating how much work it was going to take to get back its normal shine. He ignored everyone else who passed by, they were unimportant, and in Cliffjumper’s case, stupid, for going into Ratchet’s layer uninjured post-battle. Sunstreaker knew better than to risk what was left of his finish to go into the medbay and get in the way of the medics trying to save the ungrateful slaggers’ chassis. The only time Ratchet found it somewhat excusable was when it was a close family member or lover, neither of which was there in Sunstreaker’s case.

When the medbay door opened and Prowl stepped out into the hallway, Sunstreaker looked up from examining a large scrape on his leg.

“Prowl.”

“Sunstreaker,” Prowl answered, and glanced over Sunstreaker. “How are you functioning?”

“As well as anyone can expect with a slagged up finish,” Sunstreaker said, and then took a closer look at Prowl, noting the exhaustion dimmed optics and slightly lowered doorwings. “You look like you could use a good waxing too.”

Prowl doorwings twitched in surprise, and could not help at looking himself over.

“I suppose so,” Prowl replied with a bemused smile. “Though I hope you forgive me for putting off that waxing in favor of a good recharge.”

“Whatever.” Sunstreaker shrugged, mentally cringing at his own flippantness as he followed Prowl down the hall.

Prowl remained silent, letting Sunstreaker gather the words that he wanted to say with the calm patience that the tactician was so good at.

“Prowl, I’m sorry.”

Prowl looked back at Sunstreaker.

“What for?”

“Bluestreak got hurt, because I wasn’t able to get the seekers down fast enough,” Sunstreaker ground out, and Prowl shook his head.

“Bluestreak was one of those tasked with keeping track of the humans, you chose to help cover the command element and then took to the sky to ground the seekers, both were logical responses to the situation. So it is not anyone’s fault that Bluestreak, or any of the others, are injured today other than the mechs that attacked them. It is more of mine and Optimus’ shortcomings that we did not have a working plan in case what happened today occurred.”

Sunstreaker vented loudly.

“I told you that I’d protect your brother like you were protecting mine, it may have been a long time ago, but I still stand by that, Prowl,” Sunstreaker said, his voice quiet.

“For 10 vorns you were the best protector that Bluestreak could have had, and for that I’m thankful that you were there when I couldn’t be. But I will not hold you to a promise that was essentially over the moment Crasher was arrested,” Prowl answered, his voice equally soft.

Neither mech noticed the flaring visor of the mech around the corner that turned and walked away with shaking servos.

“Go fix your finish and recharge Sunstreaker, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Prowl said once they reached his quarters.

Sunstreaker turned to walk away, but paused as a thought occurred to him.

“You know, back in Praxus, Sideswipe kept saying that every time you raced with Jazz, something bad ended up happening. Looks like that’s happening here too.”

“Unfortunately that does sound accurate,” Prowl said a hollow laugh escaping the black and white mech. “Goodnight, Sunstreaker.”

“’Night,” Sunstreaker replied, watching the door close.

And the yellow mech wondered again, for the countless time, how much had he and his twin messed up the life of the first mech who had ever actually listened and cared enough to help them?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in two weeks, I’m on a roll. I feel so proud. As always, feedback is loved.

_“Like ships in the night letting cannonballs fly_

_Say what you mean and it turns to a fight_

_Fists fly from my mouth as it turns south_

_You’re down the driveway_

_I’m on the couch”_

-       “Ships In The Night” – Mat Kearney

 

_Jazz grinned as he arrived at Velocity Loop, ready to celebrate finally getting a job in Praxus. As he walked the few steps up to the track’s gate, he noticed a few shady looking mechs huddled together near the side of the building._

_Admittedly, the Velocity Loop was not in the best of locations, but it was remarkably absent of any sort of criminal activity for the metacycles that Jazz had been going. To see mechs acting shady around the track was strange, to say the very least. It was enough to peak Jazz’s interest and ask Roadblock about it._

_“There’s what?” Roadblock growled, and Jazz was taken aback at how angry the normally amiable mech was._

_“A few mechs acting a bit shady, right around the corner,” Jazz said, and the bigger mech huffed, leaving his post._

_“They won’t be for long,” Roadblock muttered, before activating his comm. line._

_Jazz watched him walk away a little confused._

_“He’s just gonna call the enforcers,” someone behind Jazz said, and Jazz turned around to see Backbite standing there looking irritated while watching Roadblock leave. “He and Crasher don’t like it when the enforcers pay too much attention to this place, so they do their best to keep the riff-raff out.”_

_Jazz looked Backbite up and down before speaking._

_“Apparently they’re not doing too good a job then,” Jazz said, walking with the green mech into the track. “Seriously though, why would what Crasher thinks matter so much? It’s Roadblock’s track.”_

_“Crasher’s a big… investor of Velocity Loop,” Backbite explained absently, and nodded at a few of the other regulars as they walked through the stands. “And Crasher does not like enforcers.”_

_Jazz felt his curiosity peak, and seeing that Backbite was actually being conversational, Jazz pushed his luck._

_“Why not?”_

_Backbite gave Jazz an unamused look._

_“You’re really clueless, aren’t you?”_

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz demanded, and Backbite vented deeply as he waved Jazz off._

_“Doesn’t matter. Look, Barricade’s over there, go bother him,” Backbite said, pointing at the dark colored mech. “Just stay out of trouble.”_

_Jazz gave Backbite a weird look, but decided that it simply was not worth the effort to push the subject, and walked over to where Barricade was sitting in the stands._

_“Hey there, Cade,” Jazz purred, sitting next to his new best friend._

_“Hello, Jazz,” Barricade replied, giving Jazz a curious look. “Were you and Backbite actually talking to each other?”_

_“Yeah,” Jazz answered frowning while he nodded. “Though I really don’t know how the two of you ended up as friends.”_

_“It’s a rather… involved story.”_

_“Oh? Care to share?”_

_“Not really,” Barricade said, turning to watch the racers on the track. “Perhaps some other time.”_

_“I’ma hold you to that mech,” Jazz told Barricade with a grin, and Barricade answered with a slight smile._

_“What were you and Backbite talking about?” Barricade asked, and Jazz recognized it as an evasion, but played along._

_“Crasher not being fond of enforcers,” Jazz answered, seeing no reason to hide it. “Backbite wouldn’t say why though.”_

_Barricade frowned before he answered. “Crasher believes that enforcer scrutiny is bad for business, by making sure that troublemakers stay away, even if it means calling the enforcers in every now and then, they ensure that their investments stay safe.”_

_“So Crasher still relies on enforcers to handle the ‘troublemakers’?”_

_“Yes, the enforcers are aware that Velocity Loop reports all troublemakers, and as such leave the track alone because it is favored by many… upstanding citizens,” Barricade explained._

_Jazz’s optics brightened in surprise, because while he had met a few mecha at Velocity Loop who could be called an ‘upstanding citizen’, most of the mecha here would definitely not fit that classification._

_“Is this making you reconsider your decision to keep coming here?” Barricade asked his voice careful. “No one would think it all that strange.”_

_It was a good point, one that Jazz’s common sense screamed at him to take. But at the same time…_

_“Nah, I like it here,” Jazz said, giving Barricade a bright grin. “It’s an awesome track, there are great mechs coming here, and a low crime rate? That’s pretty good. Besides, I like talking to you, and Backbite’d miss having someone to complain about.”_

_“I really do not think he would.”_

_Jazz laughed, and Barricade shook his helm, smiling._

_“So did you come here to race?”_

_“Came here to celebrate,” Jazz corrected, and Barricade gave him a surprised look._

_“You got the job then,” Barricade said and Jazz nodded. “Congratulations. Come on, I’m slated in the next race, we can celebrate that way.”_

_“Sounds good, my mech,” Jazz replied, his grin wide as he followed Barricade down to the racers’ entrance._

===

Jazz’s processor was reeling with the new information that he had learned, overheard by complete accident as he had been walking down a _hallway_. Information that he had been looking for vorns upon vorns, until he had to finally drop it, because those who had had the answers were dead. Then he walked down a _hallway_ , hundreds of thousands of vorns later, on a different _planet_ , and with that little extra clue, everything he knew and had noticed over the vorns – from back then in Praxus to now on Earth – clicked into place, and made infuriating sense.

And not only did it bring light to the subject, it brought back all of the questions that had remained unanswered for a lifetime, it brought back everything that Jazz had long since pushed back in his mind in a folder clearly labeled “Do Not Open”.

And Prowl, the stoic tactician that Jazz had counted as a friend for most of the war, and been in love with at least half that time, knew. He knew and had likely been very involved in what had happened in Praxus, and given what all the little bits of information added up to, Jazz knew exactly what part Prowl had played. This left two possible ways for Jazz to deal with his new knowledge: moving on or confrontation.

Not talking and ignoring what he had learned was not an option in this, Jazz had waited too long for the answers that he was due. Confrontation was the only way to get them.

So Jazz waited, patient, to initiate a conversation that needed to happen. He was above being needlessly cruel, and this was a conversation that was centuries in the making. It could wait a few more days for Bluestreak to be released from the medbay, so Prowl would not be distracted by worry and could pay 100 percent of his attention to the subject.

Jazz would not accept anything less in this.

But being decided on a course of action did not stop the conspiracies and theories from filling his processor as he wondered _why_. It did not stop either the anger or the hurt.

===

Prowl was relieved when he was able to walk his brother the short distance from the medbay to the younger mech’s room. Bluestreak’s injuries had not been life threatening, only painful and a somewhat more involved repair, but finally seeing Bluestreak well and in one piece was reassuring.

Bluestreak bid Prowl goodnight at his door, and went inside to get some recharge to properly integrate his repairs. Satisfied, Prowl turned to walk to his own quarters, and barely stopped himself from jumping at the sight of Jazz lurking nearby.

“Jazz?” Prowl asked, and Jazz moved away from the wall he was leaning on and approached Prowl.

“Got some time to talk?” It was not a question.

“Yes,” Prowl said, his voice calm and hiding his confusion. Jazz seemed irritated, and Prowl could not think of a reason why the saboteur would be. “Professional or personal?”

“Personal, but I’d prefer to talk in your office,” Jazz answered, his voice flat, and his lipplates in tight line.

“Very well.”

Prowl led the way to his office his processor racing over what could possibly create this sort of reaction from Jazz. He could not come up with a single reason that could be classified as personal.

More than a little concerned about what was bothering a close friend, Prowl input the code for his office door, motioning Jazz to go in.

Jazz went in the room, Prowl following him in and shutting the door.

“Jazz?”

“We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we, Prowl?” Jazz asked, his voice was light, with an undercurrent of something that Prowl did not recognize. Something that felt off to Prowl in a way that was sending off warnings in his processor.

“Yes, we’ve been acquainted for most of the war,” Prowl said, his words careful, not liking that he did not know what had brought Jazz to him in this sort of mood. “I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

Jazz gave a noncommittal hum, his visor trained on the wall, as if he had not cared if Prowl had actually answered or not. The saboteur was quiet for a minute before he spoke, “Ya know, I heard you and Sunstreaker talkin in the hall the other night.”

Prowl was unprepared for the random turn of conversation. “Well, yes, we do converse occasionally,” Prowl said, and then paused before continuing, “Though I am unsure of why one particular conversation would be all that important for you to eavesdrop on.”

Jazz turned his helm to look straight into Prowl’s optics, his lipplates set into a tight line.

“You mentioned someone I used to know in Praxus.” Jazz answered, cutting straight to the point, and Prowl felt his energon lines grow cold. “Specifically, the two of ya were talking about something being done once Crasher had been arrested.”

Prowl struggled for an answer, any answer that would stop this conversation from going any further than it already had. “As an enforcer, I was involved in the arrest of many criminals in Praxus,” Prowl replied, and normally that would have been enough, but Jazz’s lipplates just curled into a snarl.

“Yeah, I thought that too at first,” Jazz said and Prowl saw the other’s servos clench in fists, “but then I got to thinkin, that while Crasher did deserve that sentence, some things just wouldn’t add up about your involvement in it. You were a small fry then, and, from the sound of what you told Sunny, you were pretty involved in the case, not something you see a junior officer get involved in. And then your racing is way too similar for it to just be coincidence –”

“Jazz, you are mistaken.” Prowl interrupted, but Jazz ignored him, and continued on as if he had not heard the tactician.

“And I knew, I just knew that an enforcer had to be involved from the inside somewhere, because none of that ever really added up,” Jazz paused and gave a hollow laugh before continuing, ““Which left me with two theories, you were one of the ones involved in the framing of an at least somewhat innocent mech, which given what I know about you, unlikely. Or – and I’ll bet my spark on this one – you were the undercover enforcer, Barricade.”

It was silent for a minute, Jazz’s frame going lax, his vents loud, as Prowl’s thoughts whirled, trying to think, to explain everything.

“Jazz…” Prowl began, but stopped when it occurred to him, that there was nothing that he could say.

It was enough of a cue for Jazz to act.

“Did you think it was funny?” Jazz demanded, his entire frame tensing once again, glaring at Prowl. The tactician recoiled away, surprised at the violent burst of outrage from the normally cool Jazz. “To walk around these halls, acting as my _friend_ , pretending what went on in Praxus had never happened?”

“Jazz, I –”

“No,” Jazz snarled, cutting Prowl off, his fists shaking. “No, I don’t want to hear it. In fact I don’t want you to ever talk to me again outside of work.”

“I… understand,” Prowl said, his voice quiet and his doorwings lowered submissively, “Outside of work, I will leave you alone.”

Jazz’s servos raised opening and closing before he said, “Good,” turned and stormed out of the room.

Prowl watched Jazz leave, and once the door was shut behind the saboteur, Prowl leaned on his desk, and, not for the first time, cursed the case that had created this entire mess to begin with.

And he cursed his part in it all as well.

===

Sideswipe was grinning, walking down the hall with his brother, still chuckling over something stupid that Smokescreen had said back in the rec room.

Their overall good mood ended abruptly upon entering their quarters and seeing Prowl there, sitting on a chair with a cube of their contraband high grade in his hand.

From the look of things, it wasn’t his first either.

“What happened?” Sunstreaker demanded, straight to the point, alarm rising over their twin bond. The only thing that either of them could think of that would drive Prowl to drink in excess would be Bluestreak, but last time they had checked, he was recharging in his own berth and completely fine, something Ratchet would not allow if there was something wrong.

Prowl’s overly bright optics looked them over for a bit, before shaking his head.

“I made a mistake.”

Sideswipe relaxed a little, and moved further into his room, took a seat on his berth and gave Prowl a small smile.

“Must be pretty bad if you’re in here drinking our high grade.”

“Seeing as how the situation is all over a lose-lose scenario, coming in here to drink your high grade was a better idea than going to my quarters alone and staring at the ceiling attempting to recharge,” Prowl answered, taking another sip, and Sideswipe nodded understanding, somewhat.

The red mech accepted the cube of high grade Sunstreaker handed him, if Prowl came here to drink, the least they could do was be good drinking buddies.

“Still thinking it was a good idea now?” Sunstreaker asked, sitting down on his own berth, on the other side of Prowl across from Sideswipe.

“Yes, though if you ask me tomorrow, the answer is likely to change because of the hangover,” Prowl said, and Sideswipe laughed softly.

It was silent for the next breem or so, the mechs sipping their high grade, content with the quiet, though in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s case, they were biding their time.

“You wanna talk about what’s driving you to drink?” Sideswipe asked, his tone careful as he swished the high grade around in his cube.

“No,” Prowl replied, his tone flat, and then looked contrite as he glanced up at the twins. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s just one of those things you don’t want to talk about,” Sunstreaker said, and Prowl nodded. “We can understand that.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said his optics diming a little. He then began to stand. “I should probably go.”

“Sit. Stay.” Sunstreaker commanded, pushing Prowl to sit back down.

“You’ve stuck around us during our drunken stupors after what happened in Praxus,” Sideswipe explained, leaning back on his berth. “We can do the same for you.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least we can do; you’re a brother to us after all.”

Prowl smiled at them. “I am honored that you consider me as such. I will always regret some things, but never my decision to help you.”

Sideswipe watched as Prowl’s doorwings lowered a bit before the older mech knocked back the rest of his cube of high grade, and then reached for another one.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged worried looks, and then Sideswipe decided to lighten up the moment.

“Regret, huh? This mean you regret not redeeming my honor yet?”

Prowl gave Sideswipe a confused look.

“Your honor?”

“Yeah,” Sideswipe said, mentally cheering himself on for distracting the mech. “For losing that race to Jazz.”

Prowl’s doorwings twitched in a way that would have been subtle on Bluestreak, but on Prowl was a bright red flag that Sideswipe said the wrong thing.

_~You have a talent for pressing people’s buttons when you’re not even trying to, Sideswipe, ~_ Sunstreaker told Sideswipe over their bond, and Sideswipe gave an uneasy smile in return.

_~At least we know part of why he’s here. ~_

“Prowl,” Sunstreaker began, his voice quiet as he set his cube on the table, “what did Jazz say to you that has you in here drinking yourself to oblivion?”

Prowl hung his helm. “He found out about Barricade.”

Sideswipe scowled. “So? Who cares if he found out about Barricade, that was centuries ago, and –”

“Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker growled, warning the red mech to stop, but Sideswipe did not care.

“HE WAS GOING TO RUIN EVERYTHING!”

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to respond, but Prowl beat him there.

“Sideswipe is correct, Sunstreaker,” Prowl said, sounding exhausted, rubbing a hand down his faceplate. “However, it no longer matters, because Jazz has informed me that outside of a professional capacity, I am not to contact him.”

Sideswipe stared at Prowl, bewildered, and unable to form the words to respond.

“That’s why you’re in here drinking? Because Jazz won’t _talk_ to you?” Sunstreaker asked and then snorted derisively when Prowl nodded. “Then he’s not worth the time of day if he can’t –”

“You misunderstand,” Prowl said cutting Sunstreaker off. “Jazz has every right to be angry with me, because I have deceived him the entire time I’ve known him, both when I was acting as Barricade and now that he knows me as Prowl by refusing to acknowledge the past that we had.”

“But why’s it so important?” Sunstreaker demanded, and Prowl gave them a small pained smile.

“Because I loved Jazz as Barricade, and I love him now.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared the same thought as the situation became clear with that tidbit.

Sunstreaker put his cube down, and cut Prowl off from drinking more, working to get the tactician back to his own berth to recharge in.

Once alone in his quarters, Sideswipe began to plot, because, as much of a wrench in the plans as Jazz was, the entire situation could easily be blamed on the twins. Prowl had fixed things for them, so Sideswipe would fix this as best he could for the enforcer.

When Sunstreaker came back into their room, he stood by the door after it had closed.

“Think we can fix this?”

“We’re sure as frag gonna try,” Sideswipe said, giving his twin a weak smile. “Prowl deserves to be happy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was… difficult, especially to get the wording right, and it’s to the point where I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely satisfied with it. Feedback, as always, is loved.

_“I’m not fine, I’m in pain_

_It’s harder everyday_

_Maybe we’re better off this way?_

_It’s better that we break”_

-       “Better That We Break” by Maroon 5

_Vorns passed._

_Jazz spent a copious amount of time pouring over public records, as he searched for anything to no avail. There was no official report that listed those who survived the attack on the prison. No confirmation on whether or not Barricade had died there, only that it was the prison that Barricade had been sent to for his sentence._

_Jazz was at the end of his rope. When he was finally able to take a step back and look over the situation again, Jazz came to a decision._

_Whatever the frag he and Barricade may have had – attraction, lust, love – was over. Because Jazz could not continue to live like that, frantically searching for bits and pieces of information that just did not seem to exist. It was slowly driving Jazz insane and it certainly was not healthy._

_Especially considering that not once since his arrest had Barricade ever tried to contact Jazz, something inmates were allowed. Not once had Barricade exercised that right, which meant that he did not want to talk to Jazz. It was something that Jazz had ignored for too long, but led to a conclusion that Jazz needed to recognize._

_Obviously, Jazz’s feelings were one-sided. Alive or dead, the conclusion was the same._

_What Jazz needed to do was leave Praxus. To distance himself from the city-state that did nothing but fuel his unhealthy obsession with finding what happened to Barricade, a mech that might not even be alive anymore, Jazz set out for Iacon._

_Jazz had visited the capital of Cybertron before, and found it a little harder to actually settle in and live there than he had originally assumed, due to the influx of refugees seeking the relative safety of Iacon over the more troubled city-states. But in the mass migration that happened, Jazz found it easy to get lost in the crowd and bury his tightly held obsession in a place that held no connection to the events that happened in Praxus._

_Life settled into a sort of semi-routine for Jazz in his new home. He made new friends, had a decent job, and was safe as the rebellion escalated. Jazz continued like that for vorns, content with his lot in life, more at peace than he had been since Barricade had slunk out of Jazz’s apartment in the middle of the night._

_Until one orn, a news report mentioned Iacon’s Archives and how it was the most extensive collection of legal and historical documents on Cybertron. It held more than just data from its own city-state, but from each and every city-state on Cybertron._

_The obsession that Jazz had worked so hard to bury in the back of his processor came forth with a vengeance. It pointed out that there was still that sliver of hope that Barricade was still alive, that no official survivor list had ever surfaced, only the list of violent mecha that had escaped following the attack on the prison, a list that Barricade would not be on. But the Iacon Archives would have that list, it was close, and Jazz had a knack for hacking, making the information attainable._

_Like an addict working to get his next fix, Jazz found himself working on ways to get into the Archives, his obsession with finding what happened to Barricade back at full force. His need to have all the answers to his questions pushed him forward as he plotted his route in and out, blocking out everything that was screaming at him to stop through the looped logic that addiction followed._

 

Because wouldn’t it be better, _his obsession whispered,_ to finally have actual closure? To know if Barricade had survived the destruction of the prison? To know why Barricade’s case had all the markings of a cover up?

_It was warped logic at best, because so far, every answer Jazz got always led to another question. And, eventually, it would come to a question that only Barricade could answer, and the chances of Jazz ever seeing the mech again were way beyond minuscule._

_Confident in his hacking abilities and unable to stop his obsession, it was not long before he broke into the Archives and was hacking the data in the library for the records of the Praxian prison._

_A joor later, Jazz was in an enforcer interrogation room, handcuffed to a chair sitting across a table from a mech wearing the recognizable red brand and being handed an ultimatum._

_Be locked up in a prison cell for the foreseeable future, which, with the way Cybertron’s current stability was looking, would be the remained of Jazz’s life. Or, join the Autobots and put to use his natural hacking ability._

_It was a simple choice to make, only…_

_“I’ll join,” Jazz said his voice even, his visor meeting the Autobot’s optics. “But I want the data I went in there for.”_

_The Autobot looked at the datapad in his hand that Jazz knew held the file he was after._

_“What’s so important about a list of survivors from vorns ago that you would break into a secure archive to steal?”_

_“A friend of mine was in that prison when it was attacked. Praxus never released who died or where those who lived were transferred to,” Jazz summed up, not wanting to go into the details that led him to breaking more laws than he’d care to think about. He gave the Autobot a humorless smirk. “Look at it this way, out of everything I coulda gone for in the entire Archive, I went for a list of survivors. That’s the_ only _thing I dug up.”_

_It was not the complete truth, because while it had been the most pressing question, it was not the only one. Had he not been caught, Jazz would have stayed until everything that could be answered was._

_“Point taken,” the mech muttered, and reached over the table to hand Jazz the datapad. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this is the list of the survivors.”_

_Jazz’s servos shook as he took the datapad, opening the file that he just put his spark on the line for._

_If he’s not in here, Jazz thought, then he’s dead and that’s the end of it._

_It was a sobering thought that made his quiver, but Jazz held tight to it as a promise to himself._

_Jazz read through the list, scanning name over name, and when he reached the end of it, he felt his spark grow cold._

_Barricade was not listed._

_“Well?” the Autobot – the other Autobot now, because now Jazz was one of them – prompted._

_“He’s dead,” Jazz said, his voice soft as he put the datapad down and rested his face in his hands. Silently relieved that it was over, while mourning for what never be._

_Three orns later, the Decepticons leveled Praxus._

_Jazz joined the Autobots as he promised; there was nothing to go back to anyway._

 

===

 

Prowl was Barricade.

_Prowl_ was Barricade.

_Prowl_ was _Barricade_.

 

It was a mantra stuck on repeat in Jazz’s processor for the past week and a half. He had had no reprieve from it. Deafening music, high grade, even a sedative taken from the medbay had not drowned it out for a bit of peace in Jazz’s processor.

 

Jazz did not know which was the worst part, the never-ending mantra repeating the greatest personal betrayal Jazz had ever experienced, or the budding hysteria that had been growing in him ever since he called Prowl out on his lies.

 

It all circled down to one fact, one seemingly small thing, Jazz had found him. Jazz had found Barricade. After countless vorns, with scraps of hope dangling over his head and being sucker punched each time Jazz had had enough to reach for. After having to come to terms with Barricade being dead, having to be dead, for Jazz’s own sanity. After moving on with his life as much as he could during a war that engulfed his entire planet. After all of that, Jazz found Prowl, a close friend who he had thought might, at some point, end up as more, had been the mech who’s lies had started this. Bringing back all of the hurt and frustration that Jazz’s obsession with getting answers had brought.

 

And then Prowl did not even have the decency to at least try and properly lie about it, or even _say_ something, to say any sort of excuse.

 

So Jazz ignored the mantra as best he could. He pushed aside the concerns that Blaster, Mirage, and Prime had voiced, saying that he was fine. And Jazz would be, he had dealt with the supposed death of Barricade so long ago. Jazz could deal with the death of his and Prowl’s friendship and whatever else they may have had going for them as well.

 

And despite what part of his processor kept insisting, Jazz could deal with not having his questions answered. They had gone so long without answers; he could live the rest of his life not knowing why. Why Prowl and Prowl-as-Barricade lied to him, why Barricade had even gotten involved with him, why Prowl had never told him. Jazz could live without knowing.

 

Or at least, that’s what Jazz told himself.

 

===

 

Sideswipe was ready to break something, a table, chair, or what the frag, that wall was looking like a good option at the moment.

 

The red twin had made five attempts to talk to Jazz. To get him alone and talk about what he knew about Barricade, and try and intervene on Prowl’s behalf. The saboteur had evaded each and every try, and it was not like Sideswipe could just corner the mech in the rec room about it, not only was Jazz a hard mech to find lately, Prowl would not appreciate the gossip and rumors what they talked about would generate.

 

Hence Sideswipe’s five failed attempts.

 

~Six.~ Sunstreaker corrected over their bond. ~It’s been six times. ~

 

~That doesn’t count! No one can prove I did that! ~ Sideswipe protested, glaring at his brother. ~Besides, how was I supposed to know that Grapple was gonna be right there with a bucket of paint? ~

 

~By looking? ~

 

Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s glare with his own haughty one. Sideswipe finally broke eye contact to hit his helm on the table.

 

“I need to hit something.” Sideswipe whined and looked up while keeping his helm on the table to give his twin a pleading look. “Let’s go spar.”

 

“I’m not getting my paint scratched again today.”

 

“Oh, come on, Sunny! You know that wasn’t my fault!”

 

“Sad thing is, I know you didn’t know Grapple was there when you walked up to Jazz,” Sunstreaker said, optics looking around the rec room, “but several others, including Prime, are convinced that you’re the one responsible for everything that happened in the hallway. And now, Mirage, a mech with some of the best waxes available, has likely slipped something horrid into my paint supply for revenge. I’m not risking my paint job until I know that my back-up paint is safe.”

 

“But that could take weeks!” Sideswipe protested, and was going to continue until he convinced his brother to help him out, but stopped when he saw Jazz walk into the rec room, an idea forming.

 

“Hey, Jazz!”

 

Jazz paused mid-stride to give Sideswipe a suspicious look that Sunstreaker matched, before shrugging and walking over to their table.

 

“Yeah, Sides? What’s up?” Jazz asked.

 

“Wanna spar?”

 

Jazz and Sunstreaker stared at the red twin, and when Jazz looked at Sunstreaker questioningly, the yellow frontliner shrugged.

 

“Alright,” Jazz said, and Sideswipe grinned, getting up and leading the way out of the rec room.

 

~Yes! Two birds, one stone! ~ Sideswipe cheered. ~Sixth’s time’s the charm! ~

 

~You mean seventh. ~ Sunstreaker corrected his brother following Sideswipe and Jazz down the hallway at a more sedate pace.

 

===

 

Sunstreaker watched his brother’s spar with Jazz with a careful, casual indifference. The saboteur had given Sunstreaker a weird look when he found that the yellow frontliner was not participating, but had accepted the honest answer that Sunstreaker was protecting his finish. The other part of the answer was that Sideswipe was the better speaker of the two, and it was the red twin’s spur of the moment idea to try to have a conversation while sparing.

 

Sunstreaker had no idea how Sideswipe planned to bring up what he wanted to talk about. Especially during a sparring match brought about by Sideswipe’s own frustration from trying to talk to Jazz in the first place. Sunstreaker could not see how this was going to end well.

 

Judging from what he was picking up over the bond; Sideswipe was at a loss as well, not helping Sunstreaker’s prediction for how this was going to turn out.

 

Because so far, all Sideswipe had was, ‘Hey, remember hanging out with that one mech, Barricade, who one orn just dropped off the face of Cybertron?’ Not something that would go over well.

 

After a sharp jab that broke through Sideswipe’s guard, Jazz solved their problem by bringing up the subject for them.

 

“You two’ve known Prowl for a long time, right?”

 

“Yes,” Sunstreaker said, answering for both of them.

 

Jazz’s frown became a little more pronounced as he spoke. “He ever do any undercover work?”

 

Where Jazz’s frown set off warning bells in Sunstreaker’s processor, Sideswipe only saw an opportunity and jumped for it.

 

“Yeah, he once went undercover in a gang based around the Velocity Loop Race Track,” Sideswipe answered as Jazz caught his kick and swung the frontliner’s leg back. “You used to race there.”

 

“Yeah, I used to be a regular,” Jazz huffed as he and Sideswipe began to circle each other.

 

“I know,” Sideswipe replied and at Jazz’s confused look, elaborated. “I remember seeing you.”

 

Jazz froze.

 

“You… remember seeing me?” Jazz echoed, staring at Sideswipe, his faceplate strangely blank.

 

~Sideswipe, you need to back off, ~ Sunstreaker warned. This was either going to go very good or very bad, and with their luck, it was going to go very bad.

 

Sideswipe ignored Sunstreaker’s warning.

 

“Yep,” Sideswipe said, gesturing with his hands. “And normally, I wouldn’t get involved, but Prowl told us that you found out about the whole Barricade thing, and we know why it matters to him. I care about why it matters to him,” Sideswipe paused to give Jazz an unimpressed look. “But why does it matter so much to you? And you can’t say it doesn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t’ve had such a… childish reaction.”

 

Jazz glared.

 

“I can’t be angry about having great spark to spark conversations, interfacing with the mech, the mech disappears through mysterious circumstances, chase leads for vorns looking for the mech, and then re-meeting the mech under a new name with no acknowledgement of what happened? I can’t possibly think of a reason my anger would be ‘childish.’”

 

Sunstreaker stood up straight, mirroring his brother’s movement as Jazz spoke.

 

“Wait, wait, wait! Back up! You and Prowl interfaced?” Sideswipe demanded, and suddenly, the entire situation was put into perspective for Sunstreaker, and it was not a good one.

 

Sunstreaker pushed the feeling over the bond, but to his annoyance, Sideswipe ignored him.

 

“Yep, between being an undercover enforcer and abandoning his younger brother, Prowl found the time to interface with me,” Jazz said with a snarl.

 

Sunstreaker dropped the bond to glare at Jazz, his own snarl clear as he spoke for the first time.

 

“He _never_ abandoned Bluestreak. I took care of him while Prowl couldn’t.”

 

Jazz turned to meet Sunstreaker’s glare with his own. “Same difference.”

 

===

 

Prowl was never one to allow personal feelings to impact his work. The first time it had happened, Prowl had vowed to never again be compromised in such a manner. Not only was it disruptive to his work, it was cruel and unfair to everyone involved. He had promised himself that that first time would also be the last he would be affected in such a way.

 

But where cold calculation of past events was easy, because they had occurred in the past, it was much harder to accomplish in practice than in theory.

 

It was how Prowl had ended up in the mess the first time, and how he had succumbed to it a second time. That it was because of the same mech both times only spoke of how poorly Prowl had handled it this time. He had known that this had been a possible outcome, and yet he had persisted in his friendship with Jazz.

 

Prowl’s musings were interrupted by a sudden comm. from Red Alert.

 

::Prowl, you’re needed in the sparring room, now!::

 

Prowl was up and moving before Red Alert was finished speaking.

 

::Situation?::

 

::Those blasted Twins are trying to kill Jazz! I knew it was only a matter of time – ::

 

Prowl ignored Red Alert’s paranoid rambling in favor of racing towards the sparring room.


End file.
